The Voice Of A Healer
by UnintendedPaperCut
Summary: Everyones eyes are on me. Both gray and blue. They follow me around like cameras in the Hunger Games. Whisper both his and mine name with disaprooving glares. "Shes the one that ran off with the Seam kid." "Just another merchant tramp."   But they don't understand. None of them ever will.
1. Cake

**A/N  
>Hey guys, this is my first Hunger Games fanfiction. I always wanted to write one for this amazainggg Trilogy but I never had an idea and then I DID :o Yay ! Lol. Anywho , I reallly really actually wish and hope you enjoy this verrry much !<br>Also , Sadllly , I don't own the Hunger Games and I'm not Suzanne Collins eeddderr )': *Goes and cries* But i dooo own OC and the plot . [:  
><strong>**Oh, and one more thing and then you can reaad. The first few chapters will be sort of Mr Mellark and Mrs Everdeen~ish . But don't worry, it'll change.  
><strong>**Enjoii ~**

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><p>A tranquil exhale heavy in relief sways out from my mouth as I lay eyes on a towering and shady oak in the quiet, lazy park of the town. I sink down into the long soft grass beneath the tree's collection of green leafy arms, resting my head on the moist trunk.<p>

It's near the end of January in midafternoon. Even though it's still winter, a thin blanket of warmth wraps me in a serene stupor, a cool breeze lacing like waves in the air. I embrace the occasional sound of birds chirping up at the blazing sun hanging frozen in the clear blue sky.

Mom and Dad had granted Zion and me a day off from our apothecary shop, the family business my great-great grandfather established, in return of concocting a homemade remedy on our own. Zion had completed a chalky powder that turned into a light green goop when you poured hot water onto it last night so he could spend this whole day out with his friends. He says it cools down bug bite rashes. We have enough of those kinds of brews.

I shrug off the brown leather bag Mom had purchased for me for my fourteenth birthday just a few weeks ago. It's very smooth and has an authentic gold piece inlaid on the surface with "Ethelyn Chadwick" in graceful swoops stenciled in. I always beg Mom to tell me where she had gotten it, but she refuses to spill her confidential secret. But wherever she had bought it from, I love it and I take it with me everywhere.

I pull out the pieces of blank paper woven into a small and thin book out of my bag along with a pink pencil that had costed me a lot at the supply shop near my family's healing place. I try to think about what sort of salve I could come up with but all that approaches my mind is the repentance of wasting most of my free day at the Donner's sweet shop.

Pulling my sandaled feet underneath my bum, I rap my pencil against my fresh sheet of paper.  
>Maybe a balm to rid cold sores? Or a grainy scrub to fade the pink bumps I see on so many faces at school? That would smell lovely with apricots and jasmines…<p>

"Etheyln?"

I feel a burning rosy color cloud my cheeks as I slowly lift my eyes from my paper, making an effort to relax the wrinkles forming in between my brows.

Smiling down at me, Troy Mellark extends a hand in my direction.

I take his hand and almost gape at the amazement of the softness and warmth of his palm, bringing myself up to my feet. I shyly greet, "Hi Troy." The familiar sizzling and fluttery sensation boiling at the pit of my stomach conjures inside of me like every other time I see Troy. I internally scream in excitement from the touch of his skin.

He glances at the messy scribbles sprawled across the page in my free hand then brings his sparkling blue eyes back to me. "Of course you'd be at the park on a gorgeous day like this."

Sheepishly nodding, I bend down to stuff all of my things back into my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. "Well what brings you here?"

Troy laughs lightly and answers, "I was looking for you."

A small gasp leaks from my mouth as I register of what he just remarked. The slight shock must be displayed on my face because Troy quickly utters, "Don't worry; I don't stalk you or anything."

"No, it's not that—" He was looking for me? What for? I feel so crass and embarrassed for blurting out, "What do you want?"

I suddenly realize that our fingers are still intertwined and I'm the first to let go when Troy affirms with a grin, "Just follow me."

He grabs my hand again and gently tugs me to his side, taking my bag and shrugging it onto his own broad shoulder that isn't brushing against mine. "You don't mind, do you?" His breath smells like berries and the spots that his skin is grazing on my arm tingles with his heat.

I lower my eyes to the grass we're strolling on transform into asphalt. "Of course," I stammer. "Thank you."

"It's all to the good," Troy breathes, drawing me closer to him as we approach the lanes of shops of the town.

A balmy blush washes onto my face when we pass Zion and his cluster of friends whiz by us. An even darker red burns my cheeks as we walk by the Donner's sweet shop and I catch Maysilee and Iliana pause at the big window of their shop to gawk at us with giggles. I shoot them a giddy expression.

"Where are you taking me?" I question in a declarative tone after seeing a bunch of girls from school stop walking to glare at us.

"We're almost there," Troy reassures me, the corners of his remarkably full lips rising.

We march past Suzette Prescott, an obtuse snob in my English and Gym class, who raises her eyebrows in shock and flares her nose in enragement at our unnecessary more than usually close appearance.

"Well hello there Troy!" She practically snarls in a bark from behind us.

"Heyyyyy," Troy pauses our walk briefly to spin us around and take a few steps toward Suzette. "You know Ethelyn, right?" He turns his head toward me and gives me a tummy flustering flop of a grin.

Taking advantage of Troy not looking at her, Suzette slits her round azure eyes at me than quickly replaces her glowering scowl with a charming beam when Troy brings his attention back to her. "Of course I do, my clothing store is right across from her—" She stops talking to squeeze a nauseating bogus titter into her squeal of a sentence. "—I forgot what it's called!" She meekly shrugs as she bats her lashes.

It's a true waste really; that such a foul personality was released onto such a pretty girl. Suzette is a very appealing person, I'll give her that, but as soon as you start conversing with her you wish you hadn't; terribly vulgar and hostile and abundant in unintelligible insults to spit at Seam kids or girls who messed with her main squeeze, who was Troy Mellark at the moment. Let's just say that Suzette and I aren't the bestest of friends.

"Apothecary," Completes Troy. "Try to remember it." He places his hand onto the small of my back and I faintly flinch at the touch as he turns us around to carry on our amble.

I swivel my head around to give Suzette a smug smirk right on time because when I turn my head back around, we're in the Mellark's bakery.

The sweltering heat of the place feels delicious dancing on my skin and the mouthwatering aroma snaking into my nose makes me swallow, harshly reminding me that all I ate today was a few saltwater taffies at the Donner's.

Troy steers me past the counter to the door in the room full of scorching ovens that leads up to his house.

Mr. Mellark appears from outside of the backdoor and a smile etches onto his lips. "Well hello there Ethelyn, have you parents sent you here for those raspberry turnovers I'm baking right now?"

Even though I know he's joking, I return a genuine grin, peering at the hearths cooking delightful goodness. "Actually, my mom wanted some of those poppy seed muffins you made for us the other day."

"Of course, of course," Mr. Mellark claps his hands together. "I'll go get started on them." He disappears into the huge pantry.

Snickering, Troy wrenches open the door and leads me up the stairs, talking about how I'm going to love what he dragged me here for.

I have never really been to the Mellark's house before—unless my mother decided to bring me with her when Mrs. Mellark invited her for tea, or for rare dinners. Other than that, the thought was never really even to come to mind.

"Go sit down in the living room, I'll be right back," He exits to where I think the kitchen is.

I step into the living room and sit down onto the blue couch, sighing as the cushions eat me up. I gaze at the small TV set up on a table beside the fireplace. On the mantle, there are a whole slew of pictures. I stand up to observe the display and coo at a photo of Troy and his younger sister Danika.

She comes out from nowhere.

"Is that you Ethelyn?"

My eyes land on the tall and kind Mrs. Mellark, who's fastening on an apron and rubbing at her drowsy looking face.

"Hello Mrs. Mellark," I say, taking my hands from the photograph. "How are you?"

She beams at me and says," I'm just fine! Has Troy brought you here?" She chuckles at my nod. "Well, you'll love it!" She makes her way over to the door that Troy and I had just come from. Hand still on the knob, she adds, "Oh, and by the way, if you have a chance, could you tell your mother that I need some cream to rid of these horrid circles underneath my eyes."

"First thing I'll do when I get home."

"Thank you sweetie," She leaves, shutting the door tightly behind her.

I park back onto the plush sofa and hum as I wait for Troy to come in. What's taking him so long?

I'm about to go into the kitchen to see if he has secretly ditched me but stop when I hear a rustle and a, "Cover your eyes Ethelyn!"

Scurrying back to where I should be lounging, I plop down and mask my face with my hands, my middle and forefinger parting as I spy on Troy poking his head in from the kitchen doorway.

"Hey!" He shouts. "_Cover_ your eyes!"

"But I am!" I insist in a muffled murmur as I reluctantly close up the space my fingers had created. I strain to listen to Troy's footfalls, wondering what it is he wants to show me.

"Okay, just a second, I—" His footsteps come closer to me and finally stop with a grunt of approval. I think he just positioned something on the coffee table in front of me. "Alright, just give me another minute." His loud footsteps fade and I'm just itching to peek what's right before of me when Troy comes back and proclaims, "Open them!"

I gasp in disbelief and pure jubilance. It's petite, but it's perfect! Creamy pink icing, pearl white lace dusted in what looks like silver sparkles, pale blue sugary roses, and pastel green strokes resembling that lax pasture grass I love coating the bottom. Troy has prepared and frosted me a cake!

"It's chocolate," He informs with a shy smile before I could ask.

"It's, it's, it's—Thank you Troy!" What I do is so unexpected that even I'm stunned of the abrupt movement jumping from my body. I wrap Troy into a sudden hug and press a kiss on his cheek. Grasping of what I had just performed, I hastily pull away and drop my eyes down at the dazzling cake, another visit of the undesirable deep rubicund curtaining my face. "Why did you do this?" I stutter.

"Uhm, uh," Troy fumbles with something he has in his hand. "I never got you anything for your birthday. Sorry it's so late." He reaches at my side and grabs my hand, lying whatever he was toying with in my palm.

I stare at the tiny ivory box resting on the plane of my fingers. It has a lilac ribbon secured into a bow lying on top. My eyes cautiously trail up at Troy who's just as red as me and trying not to make this moment anymore awkward than it already is, I say, "Oh, Troy you didn't have to do this. Thank you sooo much!" I smile sheepishly at the grin taking over his flushed complexion and gaze back down at the gorgeous cake he had made for me. "How did you do it?"

"Oh, _that_?" He chuckles. "I'll teach you some time."

"You'd do that?" I almost screech, my eyebrows arching in eager interest.

Troy takes in my jittery expression and exclaims, "Yeah!"

"But, I can't eat _that_—" I point at the cake. "—all by myself."

Picking up a dark pink box people get their baked goods delivered in from out of nowhere, Troy lowers the cake into it, closing the lid shut and tucking the case underneath his arm. I blink at the ripple of his muscles as he flexes his biceps.

"Be a good girl and share it with your family," He playfully scolds in a low throaty voice.

"I will not!" I squeal in an equally bouncy tone.

"Do you want me to get the belt?" He roars.

We both break into a teary laughter, clutching at our sides, or in Troy's case, side, at how pathetic and lame our joke was. But I didn't care about how stupid I had sounded, Troy was okay with it.

He grabs my bag and takes my empty hand in his. "Now may I have the permission to walk you home?" He requests in a funny drawl.

As we march toward the door, I say, "Yes you do." I smile at myself as I temporarily take a glimpse of our entangled fingers.

The trek soars by way too swiftly, and right before Troy opens the door of my family's shop, he gently presses his crazily soft lips against mine, pulls back with a charming smirk, and says, "That's payback for the lousy one you teased me with. Happy late birthday." He sets my things onto the sidewalk and vanishes into the bustling street.

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><p><strong>I really hope that this was enjoyable enough to read ! Reviews and suggestions are greatly welcomed<strong>

**Much love -UnintendedPaperCut**

** xox**


	2. A Mockingjay Pin

**A/N  
>Ok, so I was thinking … that maybe—ok it <strong>_**was**_**—my first chapter was tooooo detailed and a bit boring. I get a bit too carried away when I type and edit. I apologize for that. A million times. But I'll try making this one as SIMPLE as possible! Sound like a deal? Okay, okay. Also, when you say Ethelyn's name, pronounce it like you would say Evelyn but replace the "v" with a soft "th" sound(:  
>Oh yeah, one more thing! Who saw the movie? ! I've been waiting for over a year for a movie to be produced and I hate to say this but I expected more. Don't get me wrong , it was very entertaining , I think that they captured the Capitol perfectly and the beginning almost as perfect but the games were like less than half of the film o; And they rushed the cave scene and Rue<strong>**): I could go on but this authors note is already long enough. Makes meh sad (;  
>But I enjoyed it like I hope you'll enjoy this chapter . So, much love and here yah go ~<strong>

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><p>I press my back up against the cool headboard of my bed and stare down at the small box in my hand.<p>

_What is it?_ I think.

What Troy did was far too generous. The cake was just enough, pleasant and delicious even, but then he also gave me a _second _gift.

I respire with greedy excitement as I tauntingly tug the ribbon from its bow. Gently, I lift the tiny lid and gasp.

It takes me a while to place the name of the bird right before my eyes but then I recognize a half second later.

It's a mockingjay. _Pure_ and glistening gold encircled in a shining ring. The tips of the songbird's wings barely touch the inner layer of the loop it's fenced in. I run my fingers on the suave surface and discover that it's also a pin. My gluttony overwhelms me and vanishes completely. This is too much. This is _far_ too much.

But I still can't help myself. The selfish part of me immediately secures the gift onto my nightgown and hastes to the small and fogged mirror attached to the top of my squat wardrobe. I vacantly gaze at my reflection. It's easy to ignore my golden hair and blinking blue eyes, since all I can see is the mockingjay. It's _so_ stunning.

I chew on my bottom lip and reluctantly pluck the clip from my front. I decide that I'll return it to Troy tomorrow at school; it must've been outrageously expensive, considering at how intricate the design is. My fingertips trace the fancy lines of the bird's feathers and I marvel at the texture of this gold.

The gnawing of my lip increases as I hold the trinket and finally nod with demurring confirmation. Returning it, it is. I tread back over to my night table and carefully place it on top of my little jewelry chest so I won't forget when I wake up.

My lids woozily drop, prompting me of how exhausted I am. I'm content to cocoon in the cozy homemade quilts of my bed. I blow out my candle with a frail whistle.

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><p>It's lunchtime when Maysilee notices my mockingjay pin.<p>

"Ooo, Ethie, what _is_ that?"

A small smile ballets onto my lips and I bite into my apple butter roll. "Doesn't matter, I'm returning it to its owner."

Maysilee squirms with eager anticipation. "Oh come on Ethie! Spill it!"

Iliana narrows her sly blue eyes and declares, "Well, I've certainly never seen it before. Guessing you got it… yesterday?" After she wiggles her eyebrows brazenly at me, she and her twin sister exchange scrunched faces and giggle.

I heave when Maysilee shrieks, "Oh _Ethelyn_!" She peeks around the chattering lunch courtyard then leans in from across the table, lowering her voice to a squealing whisper. "Did _Troy_ give it to you?"

Iliana scoffs. "Isn't it obvious? Of _course _he did!" Licking her lips, Iliana squashes her mouth and smacks, "Oh you two lovebirds!"

"_Iliana_," I hiss in a whisper. "Stop it! Or I- I—"

"What? What?" She presses, her lips still smooshed and her eyes big and oogly. "You're gonna tell my boyfriend I like him? There's _nothing_ you can do!"

I stutter. "Maysilee! Make her stop!"

But then she joins in.

"Troy and Eth-e-lynnn sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I—"

"Who's kissing?"

My eyes widen and by the surprised expressions on Iliana and Maysilee's half opened mouth faces from their unfinished song, _he_ is standing right behind me. Oh dear Go…

"Oh no one," Maysilee sheepishly smiles then sneaks me her signature "OMG Eth! It's Troy! And he's standing right there! And OMG, do something flirty!" visage.

Iliana smirks when she says, "Ethhhh-uhhh-lynnn, looks like someone's here to see you."

I glower at the both of them, shakily exhale, then rise from my seat and turn around.

"Hey Ethelyn,"

I blink. Because quite frankly that's the only thing I _could_ do. Troy's right eye is bruised. Badly. Black and purple. I can only see a sliver of his blue glory.

"Troy, uh, what, uhm, what happened?" The steady voice I'm trying to fulfill falters.

He shrugs and his left eye is just so flawless and visible because I could see it crawl down to the top of my blouse. Erotically unhurried and lingering.

I blush but I know I'm blushing for a nonexistent reason.

"You're wearing it," He grins and his eyes trail back up to meet mine. "It looks great on you."

"Th-th-thanks," I swiftly glance over at the table and realize that my group of friends have all left. My breathing is now shallow and when my attention switches back to him I feel even more self-conscious. "But I need to give it back." I bring my hand up to remove the pin and become aware of how close we are when my knuckles inadvertently graze his shirt.

I'm about to say a quick sorry when Troy clutches my hand and grasps it in the practically unreal space between us.

My gaze drops down to our feet.

"It's a gift," His scent is nutty and has a hint of spice cake.

I stammer my words for his strangely amatory fragrance overpowers me. "But I bet it was too pricey. Your cake was already a surprise and fantastic."

"From me, and I want you to keep it." Troy fixes the pin on my blouse and I swallow at how near his hands are to my chest. I'm probably the deepest of deepest reds right at this moment and fortunately, I guess he can't see that. He releases the hand he used to hold mine with and his knuckles ever so slightly skim the top of my breasts when he pulls his hands back to his side.

By the way he says, "Got it?", I'm assuming he didn't notice that either.

I nod like a dumdum.

"Oh, and are you fine with me walking you home after school today? Maybe even fix up my eye?"

I bob my head once more.

"Alright Ethelyn, see you!" He gives me a small wave then heads off.

My breathing is still raspy and unstable when I walk to my next class.

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><p>As soon as the last bell rings, Troy emerges from the crowded hall and takes my hand in his.<p>

My eyelids flutter; I'm still not familiar with this gesture that we act out so often now.

"Okay, let's go."

"Y-y-yeah, that sounds good,"

The sunlight hits my sore eyes like bricks because of staying in the dim and shadowy classes only lit by candles or the occasional kerosene lamp since lunchtime. I squint and stagger after Troy's guidance.

"Chosen your partner for the English project yet?" Troy asks right after we stumble of the school's front steps.

"Yeah, Maysilee, duh," Even though Ms. Cathaway gave us a week to decide on our partners and ideas for a poster an any story we read in our literature book, Maysilee and I habitually teamed up. If Iliana had that period with us, we would've probably _found_ a way to be a threesome.

"Y'know, you should have a new partner this time. Try with someone different…" Troy takes a glimpse of me from the corner of his good eye as we walk toward my house. "I mean, you don't _have_ to." He hastily adds.

I furrow my brow. "Yeah, maybe… Why, do _you_ have one?"

Troy replies carefully. "No, I was hoping—"

"I'll call Maysilee later on today; tell her that you're my new partner." What am I even saying!

But I'm astounded at how big Troy's smile is. "Okay!"

Laughing, I say, "You're so easy to please!"

He frowns. "You think so?"

I cuddle up onto his shoulder as we stroll before I can even stop myself. "Mhmm."

He takes his hand from mine and wraps his arm around my waist. "If you say so." He draws me in closer to him and my grin is just so wide and unable to be compressed that I could feel the rumble of his snicker. Whatever.

Soon we're in the apothecary shop.

Mom greets us with a warm smile. "Hello Ethelyn and Troy—oh my what happened!"

"Nothing."

Both my mother and I slit our eyes as I set my bad onto the counter.

"Come on Troy," I chide. "We're not stupid."

"Well if he doesn't want us to know, he doesn't want us to know," Mom says simply. She knits her brow, looking straight at me when she articulates, "And since you _forgot_ to make your salve yesterday, I'm leaving this whole evenings shift to you. And—don't even think of asking for Zion's help."

I gawk. "But Mom!"

"No buts," She turns and heads over to the back of the shop. "Your father and I have worked a long day. Naturally, fatigue has taken us over and dad has gotten a head start on his nap. Now's my opportunity."

I huff as the door shuts and I immediately pull Troy to sit on the patient's table concealed in a thin and flimsy bedding. "This is just great."

"I can help you,"

I go over to the shelves beside the counter and scan all the labels of the flasks. I grab a few and walk back over to him. It takes me a while to screw open the cap of a container of leeches and as I position a few around Troy's eye despite his taken aback expression, I ask, "You'd do that?"

A mocking smile takes up my face and I head to the sink. I turn the tap on and stick a ratty washcloth under the lukewarm stream. "If you insist." I shut the faucet off, go back to the patient's table and replace the leeches with a hot compress. "But don't complain."

"Don't forget that I work laborsome days at the bakery," He attentively watches me with his uncovered eyes. "But I'll try not to."

We both trade shy smiles. The chime of the bell at the door tells me that a customer just ambled in. I spin around and rush over to the person.

"Hey Aiden! What have you brought today?"

Aiden Everdeen is a really generous Seam guy in my grade that swaps plants with me that he comes across when hunting in the woods with money, food or every now and then, medicine. I guess that you'd call him and his best friend Haymitch Abernathy the cool Seam people at school.

He runs a hand through his dark brown hair as he sets a bundle of plants onto the counter.

"The usual, however I also found some of those leaves that heal trackerjacker stings you told me about the other day," His gray eyes flicker over my shoulder at Troy then back at me. His smile is firm and what seems artificial.

Yet I maintain my usually cheery spirit. "That's splendid!" I pull open the drawer of our shabby cash register and take out the traditional amount of cash I pay him with. Then I go over to the cabinet and snatch a jar of peppermint balm. "Here's your money, and since you found those precious leaves, a little ointment for your siblings' cold."

As he takes the things from my hands, he asks slowly, "Thanks, but how'd you know?"

"I saw them at school."

He nods, mystified.

I rock on my shoes. "Well, just rub some onto their chest, back and a little on the bottom of their feet. It'll work wonders."

"Alright then, thank you." He leaves a second after he says that.

"Seems like you keep quite a watchful eye on that Everdeen kid," Troy says.

I'm a little taken aback by his comment. I don't why, but I just am. I go over to him and remove the compress. "It's sort of a part of my job. Recently, he doesn't come in as much as he used to with a torn arm from a wild dog or a numerous amount of stings from wasps." I dampen the cloth and gently wipe his face off with it. "Providing for your family isn't that easy, so I offered him to pick plants for us. Only when my parents are not around though, or they'd have a fit." I dab some moisturizing cream onto the little bumps from the leeches.

"I see,"

I laugh. "Wow, you look much better now!"

He gazes into my eyes with the corners of his lips rising. Those lips.

And they're getting bigger and bigger too and that's when I realize that he's leaning in close to me. I place both of my hands on either side of his waist on the table and I could feel his warm breath leave a moist mask on my forehead when he says, "Good, 'cause it looks like we have a customer."

"Huh!" I pull away from him fast enough to see the smirk on his face.

Someone clears their thorat.

My flustered façade transforms in to a scowl.

"Damn you Troy," I mutter as I make my way over to the counter. "How may I help you today, Suzette?"

Her nose scrunches as she says, "What are you doing in a scum place like this, Troy?"

I almost ask what _she_ is doing here but I exhale a _long_ exhale and evenly ask in a sugary tone, "He has a black eye, can't you see?"

Suzette rolls her big blue eyes. "Yeah I can see that, what do I look like, _blind_?"

My eyes roll just like hers. "Whatever, what do you want?"

She sticks her chin high up in the air and says haughtily and what seems like she's been practicing repetitively, "I need something to relieve a rash."

"Oh-kay then," I grab the rash cream from one of the cabinets behind the counter and ring up the register. "Anything else?"

"Mphm," Is her answer.

"Alright, that'll be fifteen dollars,"

Her eyebrows arch. "Chadwick, don't you think that's a little exorbitant?"

"_Look_ Suzette, I don't have all day. Do you want the cream or not?"

"I'll pass and suffer," Suzette huffs and twirls on her heel. "Good_bye_!" She bursts through the door.

"You'd think that she'd have the money to purchase that. Considering the way that she acts," Troys notes as he jumps off the table.

"No, she always comes in here and does that," I inform apathetically.

"Oh,"

It's hard to belive that Suzette and I used to be very good friends with the Donners and me. Well, Iliana is still a trivial buddy of hers, but you just would've never thought we had sleepovers with each other.

I sigh when Troy offers, "You know if you're hungry, I could go get us some food."

"That would be nice, thanks Troy." I give him a wave and lean on the countertop after he goes.

Two scrawny and swollen eyed girls stagger in with a short boy laying in both of their outstretched arms.

I recognize them instantly as the one with curly hair, Kimble Muck, I think, mumbles shamefully, "I'm so sorry, Casper had other nightmare."

I rush over to them and help them lay their brother onto the table. I also can't help but notice the familiar pattern of narrow scars sketched onto their limbs. "No, it's fine. What do you think it was about this time?"

"The reaping of course, he just turned twelve," They both say in a shaky unison.

"Oh, yes, just a few days away," I respond after a while.

Eventually, their younger brother wakes up after a couple spoonfuls of syrup and his older sister leave with feeble goodbyes.

"Thank you," Casper grants timorously and I giggle and say, "It was my pleasure, you're my favorite visitor." I scoop a handful of peppermints from the glass bowl we had out to the occasional customer. "Here you go." After I give him the candy, he runs off, an extensive grin stretched across his face.

I go sit down at the bench beside the patient's table and take my book out on Panem's history from my bag. I haven't even read a full sentence when Troy steps in with a tiny paper bag in his hands.

I choke on my breath just to see him standing at the door so casually like that. Regardless of the deep purple curtaining his right eyelid, his smile is unmistakably made for me and he just appears so comfortable and serene in here.

"Well what have you brought?" I timidly ask as he lowers himself next to me.

"Nothing special," He wraps open the packaging and holds a petite pastry up in front of me to observe. "You don't mind sharing, do you?"

I shake my head. "Not at all."

The strudel is light and flaky. Showered in cinnamon and the toasted almonds inside are dedicated a whole layer to themselves.

As we nibble on our snack, we don't speak. Just shyly ogle at one another with red cheeked simpers, our feet unintentionally dancing at a game of footsie.

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><p><strong>BAD BAD BAD . I know ):<br>but my sister OneWhoWeeps and I have really big plans for this story soooo, stay tuned:D****  
>-UnintendedPapercut<strong>


	3. A Second Too Late

**A/N  
>Hey everyoneee(: This chapter is going to be a really short one. But don't worry because there're more long ones to come:D<br>Enehhhwhoo, yes, Ethelyn and Aiden will soon… become closer BUT, I need to grow on her and Troy's relationship, because it's an extremely huge part of this story. So pretty pleaseee bear with me. I swear it'll be worth your time c;  
>And without any further ado, ENJOII~<strong>

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><p>"Mom, it doesn't fit," I mumble in an irritated groan.<p>

Mom steps into the room and closes the door behind her. "Are you sure? I just bought it for you the other day!"

I bite my lip as I gaze at my reflection in the body length mirror in my parent's bedroom. "It's just the reaping," I whine exasperatedly.

"No, we're going to _make_ this thing fit!" She walks over to me and stands just behind my back. "Now suck—wait, what are you talking about? This fits you just perfectly…" Her placid eyes meet mine through the mirror and her small smile causes me to smile back at her. "You look absolutely gracious."

I can't help but admit that I _do_ look a bit nice. The dress I'm wearing is a soft cerulean, accented with gleaming ivory buttons and ruffles and pleated shoulders. My eyes encounter my mother's again through the glass's duplication. "Thank you, Mom." I weakly whisper.

"Mhmm." She holds a lock of my hair in between two of her fingers. "Shall we do your hair now?"

I nod in assent. "Definitely."

Mom grasps a comb from the top of her wardrobe and begins to gently run it through my hair. "Now Ethelyn, I've perceived that you've been spending time with Geneva Mellark's son."

I clear my throat and adjust my standing position. "We're just friends."

"Oh, Ethie hon, don't play that game with me." She starts to grab my hair in different sections, plaiting as she does so. "I'm fine if you do favor him."

Why is she even talking about this? I can't help but feel curious as of why she even cares. "Mother, what do you have planned for my hair?"

Mom ignores me though. "I just want to be assured that I know that you won't do anything immature or reckless. Chadwick is not a name you want to bring shame upon."

My giggle is forced and unnatural. "What makes you think that I would do something 'immature' or 'reckless'?" She distrustfully eyes me through the mirror. I briskly add, "You and Dad have raised Zion and me quite exceptionally."

The corners of her thin lips lift wearily. "We all know that. Nevertheless, that doesn't mean our upbringing of you could prevent expressing the love you have for a boy."

I sigh, trying to recall what few words she said that led to this. "Yes, Troy and I are hanging out more often now. We're good friends and we have an English assignment that needs to be finished." I say dismissively.

Mom cocks her brow, skeptical because of my intolerable tone.

"I promise I won't do anything to disgrace our family. I would never commit fornication with a man. Who would do such an intimate thing before wedlock, anyway?"

"You would only understand when you grow older." She starts to grab pins and strategically slide them into her hair creation. "Your hormones will beg for wild activities when you're near or thinking of someone you love. But you must pay no attention to them unless you are certain that you will have a toasting and devote the rest of your life with him."

"Of course,"

"That's my girl," She clasps a gemmed hair brooch into my hair and says, "Now you take care of this. It's a pin that is older than you and I combined."

I respond with a plain yes and we both stare at my astonishing appearance. Mom has braided my hair up on my head. The design is so simple yet very meticulous. The brooch makes it appear completely remarkable. The dress I wear embellishes the originality of my hairstyle and accentuates the blue of my eyes. I give out a yelp and spin around to embrace my mother. She is so loving and caring and why would she waste such time on a ridiculous day like this?

"Beautiful," She murmurs into my ear before getting ready herself.

When Mom's through with prettying up, we head down to the apothecary.

Dad and Zion beam at us as we make our entrance.

"My two girls, lovely as always," Dad gushes.

"Oh hush, Nathaniel," Mom saunters over to him and hooks her arm into his extended one. But by the glow radiating off of her flattered face reveals that she is truly delighted.

"Thank you Dad," I mutter right when my parents both look back at me.

Zion laughs and tugs me to his side. "Why so sour, sis? You _do_ look good. Betcha that Mellark boy won't be able to take his black eye off of you during the reaping."

I elbow him in his ribs when Dad more ratherly states than questions, "So you like Herman's boy. Of course."

Mom smiles, obviously pleased, as she gazes at both Zion and me. "Look at you two; I'm tremendously honored to call you my children."

Although I'm shoved up against his side, I could practically see Zion roll is "dreamy"—as my friends say—eyes.

"Especially Zion," Dad chirps.

But I don't feel jealousy, not in the least bit, because I'm also proud to call my older brother my best friend. He's tall, a looker, even got a job offer from the Capitol which is not only never to happen, but a really celebratory thing.

"Next week, my boy's going to Panem's ruling city!" Dad finishes in flourish.

Zion shuffles from beside me. "That's if I make it through this reaping." A trace of humor and sarcasm dawdles in his broad voice.

The three of them laugh but I could feel myself grimace and vocalize frostily, "Don't joke about that, lets go."

I don't even wait for their oks. I'm already from Zion's side and out the door before they have the time to object.

A gloomy and ill-omened atmosphere drifts in the air, the pretty day escaping my conscience entirely. The miserable energy buzzing around me causes my head to hang down low and shuffle hurriedly to the square.

Unfortunately, my eyes being glued to the pavement doesn't lead me to the square but to bump straight into Suzette and her fluffy lavender dress.

"Hmph," She raises her chin in the air as always and pats at the layers of lacy poofs she's attired in. "Watch where you are going, _Chadwick_." I hate how she calls me by my last name. I hate how she sneers it. Ugh, I hate _her_.

"Sorry," I say, clearly annoyed.

Suzette's already disapproving face alters into a much more judgmental one and her lips purse into a dismayed frown. "Don't use that tone with me," She snaps. Her eyes flicker up and down my outfit and pause at the spot near my heart. Her nose flares at the sight of my mockingjay pin. Mouth open, probably ready to shoot a criticizing remark at me, Suzette snarls as I push past her and rush to the square, _watching_ where I go.

Once I'm signed in, I follow the silent line of girls trickling into the fourteen year old section.

Soon the mayor starts to recite the droning Treaty of Treason. I take in a look of my surroundings because I've might as well have memorized this whole reaping situation to begin with.

I almost burst out laughing because when my eyes land on Maysilee, her bobbing head, raised eyebrows and mouth shaping words looks so hilarious and out of place in the sea of solemn faces. I turn back around to the stage so I won't be held in the one day jail due to my outburst. I clap a hand over my mouth, trying to suppress the giggles. I start to hiccup strangled hiccups and girls standing around me glower at me with loathing glares at my audacity of being so blatant. My laughing condition subsides right after twenty or more glances of those.

Next thing you know, our escort Trinity Flair is clunking her way to the podium after the mayor's speech and is re-introducing herself in that squeaky Capitol accent I used to adore when I was younger.

"Shall we pick the ladies first?" Her putrid yellow curls bounce ferociously when she answers herself with a very wholehearted and head throbbing nod. "Okie-dokie!" She clicks over to the cavernous glass bowl to her left and dunks her arm that's laced with a viney aqua design in.

Please don't be me.  
>Please don't be Maysilee.<br>Please don't be Iliana.  
><em>Please<em> be Suzette.

Not me, not me.

Trinity prances back to the mic, carefully unfolding the slip of paper she fished out.

"And our female tribute for the 49th Hunger Games is—" Her enchanting purple eyes scans the name. "—Shay Muck!"

A burdensome ton lifts from my spirit because it isn't my name, or any of my other friends'. But the weight immediately crushes my heart when I internally repeat the name.

Shay Muck… That's Kimble Muck's sister! The girls who always bring in their little brother Casper due to his unawakening slumbers.

My shoulders slump as I witness Shay shakily climb up the steps to the make-shift stage.

Trinity thrusts out her hand for Shay to shake. Her façade is blank and emotionless after they let go.

"Alrighty then!" Trinity shrills, smearing her hand onto the distracting rainbow skirt she is flouncing in. "Let's move on to our gentlemen!"

My breath hitches as I watch her make way to the boy's bowl.

It can't be Troy. It can't be Troy. Don't be Troy.

Her hand sinks into the ocean of paper pieces and she digs around for a while, a huge grin still remaining on her magenta stained lips.

It can't be Troy. Don't be Troy.

She pulls her hand from the basin.

Please, please, please.

Trinity clacks back to the microphone and belts out, "And our male tribute for this year's Games is—"

I've almost forgot about Zion. Please _don't_ be Zion—or Troy.

But my slip up of a prayer for my dearest brother's safety is answered a second too late.

* * *

><p><strong>:ooooooooo<strong>

**Please excuse grammatical and punctuation errors .(: btw, if you didn't notice, Ethelyn's reaping outfit is the same as Katniss's one:OO . Sorry , I'm just so unoriginal , lol .**

**Anyway , **** i really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did . **

**Much love -  
>UnintendedPaperCut3 <strong>


	4. The Opening Ceremonies

**A/N  
>Herro guys c: Just me with another short chapter... I'm having my gracious spring break next week so you're in for a few long chapters these following days! :D<br>Also, I don't know if I already said this before but , I ****SADLEHHH**** don't own the**** AH-MAY-ZINGGG**** Hunger Games trilogy .): ): ): Makes meh even moh sad to admit it . On the internet. Poo -,-  
>Anyway . Enjoi~<strong>

* * *

><p>The family room feels dangerously foreign. Like I'm not even in my house. The dormant lamps perched here and there are burning light bulbs through cream colored shades, the television is buzzing with actual life and the scorching flames dancing in the fireplace give off strange warmth this one particular night. Mom is passing out mugs of steaming peppermint cocoa to Dad, me and Arella Hamilton, Zion's girlfriend that Mom insisted on coming over for dinner.<p>

I fervently inhale the sweet aroma wafting from the hot drink handed to me. It smells good, relaxing even, and for a second, I feel as if the reason why I'm sitting here with a part of my family is not to celebrate the 49th Hunger Games.

I bury myself deeper into the stiff and firm cushions of the rocking chair I'm seated in. As much as I hate hard furniture, I bear with this; the tautness reminds me of Zion's arms whenever he hugs me.

"Wonder what costumes the stylists have planned for District Twelve tonight," Mom sighs as she parks herself on the sofa between Dad and red eyed Arella.

Dad brings his drink to his lips. "I guarantee that it'll be those clichéd and blasted coal miner suits."

Shuffling from beside my mother's side, a small smile etches onto Arella's lips when she says, "Zion will look good in anything."

"Of course he will," Mom gives Arella a brief and reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning to me. "Drink up Ethelyn, it's going to get cold."

I don't think it'll be getting cold anytime soon. The cocoa blisters through the lacquered mug and leaves red scalding marks on my palm, but I don't even pay attention. Instead, I spit bitterly to my parents, "Shouldn't you guys be sad?"

Fortunately, they don't scold my disrespectful comment. They could see how I'm much more despaired than Arella.

"Well, Ethelyn dear, people are mournful when loved ones go into the arena because they probably don't have faith that they will win," Dad answers tersely. "Your mother and I have confidence that our son will return safely back to us. Seems to me that you don't have much trust in your older brother."

I swallow. Because stinging bile has crawled its way up my throat. How dare my father say that I don't have faith in my _brother_? Before I can back-talk, Arella is speaking.

Her face seems to have lightened up from Dad's short-lived speech and her voice sounds like honey, like at all times, but there's still a trace of hoarseness from excessive crying. "Besides, the Capitol will probably rig the Games so that Zion will have an even better chance of coming back home. He's receiving an extremely important job there, _anyway_." Her sapphire eyes flicker around and she ducks her head in embarrassment. A few strands of blonde hair are drawn to her mouth. She nibbles nervously.

"Yes, now they want him to bring even _more_ honor to the family… On live TV," Mom enthuses, setting her mug onto the coffee table. She clasps her hands together when she continues. "It's as if the Capitol is reading our minds!"

I'm about to say "Wouldn't be surprised if they could see us right now", when Claudius Templesmith is on our TV screen with a bunch of commentators seated at a glittering table. Cesar Flickerman is among them.

"Well, good evening Panem! You're about to watch the live broadcasting of the 49th annual Hunger Games opening ceremony! Now let me introduce myself to those of you who don't know me." He flashes a blinding white smile and whoops in that legendary voice, "I'm Claudius Templesmith, your worldwide known host for the Hunger Games!" He spins in his chair and gestures at Cesar Flickerman. "And here's our very own and favorite Cesar Flickerman the interviewer. May I say Cesar—you look tremendously charming this night."

Cesar radiates with his reassuring yet jovial grin as he pulls at the sparkly yellow collar of his suit.

"Why, thank you, Claudius. Wanted to get into the whole sunny spring spirit. Recently seen many ladies out here in the Capitol practically glowing in this marvelous lemon fashion." His wink to the camera sparks a deafening applause from the audience. "Back to you Claudius."

Soon they're through with introducing all the commentators in the limelight this year and the screen is now covered in a beautiful view of the city circle in front of President Snow's mansion. There are more people in the stands than there are here in District Twelve.

I take a sip of my peppermint cocoa without even acknowledging it, disappointed at the lukewarm temperature it has become.

On the television, the commentators' voices still linger, but almost at the point of being inaudible, because the District One chariot has just been pulled out of the building by purely white horses.

The crowd goes wild.

A close up of the two glistening tributes' faces our shown. They're beautiful, shimmering in silver dust and beaming like they're truly happy to be there. The volume of the commentators' voices only increase when they say their names.

"Our lovely tributes from District One—Trina DuPrau and Comet Castillo! Now Claudius, just look at that gown dear Trina's assembled in. Isn't it just exquisite?"

A rumble of agreement from the other commentators confirms that this Trina girl has already caught the attention of wealthy sponsors. I don't know why but suddenly my stomach churns in anxiety and rage. What if all the other tributes are amazing? Or worse, what if Zion can't hold a candle out to them?

The next Districts blur by. The scene is the same as ever: better than the last, or just plain degrading. I only hold my breath after District Eleven has rolled out from the doors.

"Here it comes," Mom whispers. "Here comes our big boy!"

My mug slips from my hands and crashes to my feet. A spray of warm cocoa splashes onto the carpet and soaks into my socks just as the slivers of shattered clay do. Obviously, no one has noticed. What we seen on the TV screen is just outrageous.

Zion and Shay Kimble are naked. _Stark_-naked. The only thing that covers them is the chalky black coal dust worn as a very sheer cloak. Shay's face is pitiful. But Zion's grinning, and the crowd's grown even crazier than before. Maybe because of their lack of clothes, maybe because my brother is so painfully attractive. Either way, I turn from the screen. I've seen many nude men and women from those occasional days in the apothecary, but this is different. Very different. Arella's expression is undeniably in shock and anger.

"They… did… not…" Mom utters.

Dad gets up and flicks the television off. "The coal miner outfits would've been better. I would've actually have liked it too." He heads up the stairs. "Call me when dinner's ready."

"Very well darling," Mom rises from the sofa and hurries to where I am. She kneels onto the soggy carpet as she does a half-done job of picking up the flakes of broken clay. "Ethelyn, clean this mess up and Arella, do you wish to have any more cocoa?" She stands up.

Arella shakes her head. "Oh no, I'll help you with preparing supper."

Mom smiles. "You are a golden child." She cuts her eyes at me. "Hurry, I don't want our white carpet _stained_."

That night, our meal is awkward and silent. The only sound we hear is the frequent "would you please pass the carrots" or a clink of a fork.

I laugh when Maysilee calls, screaming about the ceremonies.

As I get into bed, I wonder if Zion's exposing of skin has won him sponsors, or have diminished them completely.

We'll just have to wait and see.

* * *

><p><strong>c:<strong>

** UnintendedPaperCut**


	5. A First Kiss

Maysilee wiggles her eyebrows from across the classroom at me.

"How's your project going?" She mouths.

I just give her small smile and turn back to Troy. I'm just not in the mood. It's been two days since Zion's ludicrous costume parade and tonight the Capitol will be presenting the tributes' training scores. I still can't believe that Zion will be entering the arena tomorrow morning, and I still refuse to acknowledge the fact that I might never see him again… the house feels so empty and abnormal without him.

"Does that sound alright Ethelyn?"

"Huh?" My eyes quickly leave the boring sight of my lap and trail up to Troy. Has he been talking to me? An embarrassing shade of red eats my cheeks up. "Sorry, could you repeat that please?"

"I was thinking that maybe after school we could go to the library, y'know; work on our assignment a little more?" Troy drums his pencil against the desk in between us, glancing up at me with deep concentration plastered all over his face.

"Yeah, yeah," I mumble and lean my elbow onto the desk's top, resting the side of my head into my cold palm. "That would be great."

"Okay!" He smiles and asks, "So which story do you feel like doing?"

I gaze down at the literature book laid out before me and flip through the pages. I pause on the sheet with a picture of a thick and leafy vine on it. "I was considering _Jack and the Beanstalk_. How about you?"

He shrugs. "I liked the one about Johnny Appleseed, but your choice seems better. So we'll get started at the library."

"Are you sure?" I question uncertainly.

"Yep," He shuts the book. "Let's pack up; the bell's going to ring any second by now."

In due time, English is over and Maysilee's by my side in an instant.

"Soooo," Her eyes flicker at me and she giggles that giggle whenever we're talking about boys. Or at least right now, she's _trying_ to. "What's up?" She drags her words.

I sniff. "Nothing, I'm just sleepy. How's your project going?"

She sighs longingly. The look in her eyes just displays how frustrated she is in me. The _did anything happen between you two?_ façade has vanished. "I'm disappointed that you're not my partner anymore but I guess it balances out since its _Troy_ you replaced me with." We turn down the hall, heading toward the lunch courtyard. "Hazelle Thompson's alright… she's really smart."

"I'm glad to hear that," I nudge her side and she lets out a soft laugh. "But that doesn't mean I'm completely okay with not having you as my partner!" She cries.

A teacher supervisor stops us at the double doors that lead to the courtyard. He tells us that it's raining and for us to go to the amphitheater, the assembly room we rarely use at this tiny school.

The air is stale and musty when Maysilee and I step into the place. We find Iliana and our other friends at a rickety table at the far end of the auditorium. I sit down with a forced smile. "Hey," I weakly greet.

Sharon Lutz turns to me with a huge grin. "Hi Ethelyn, you feeling any better?"

I just stretch my smile as an answer. She sympathetically nods, reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze. She's back to chattering with our other friends a second later.

Sharon is sort of a close friend of mine… right below Maysilee and Iliana. But her never-ending friendly remarks and continuous raving about her crush Jesse Cartwright could get a bit tedious.

My attention switches back to Iliana. She bites her lip. "You look really pooped."

I rub at my eyes, just to elaborate the fact that I am. "Mhmm."

Maysilee pokes at my face. "Anyway, you wanna come over to our house after school?"

"I can't. I'm going to the library with Troy," I scoff at their exchanged raised eyebrow faces. "But I need to go find him, to tell him we shouldn't. It's raining cats and dogs."

"Hey!" Maysilee screeches. "Hazelle and my story is about actual animals falling from the sky." She lowers her eyes from Iliana's stare.

Iliana peers at me after glaring at her sister. "No, you should go with him."

"And why—" I prod at my sandwich I just pulled out from my bag. "—is that?"

She rolls her eyes. "Just don't ruin it for yourself."

I wince, because I don't understand what she means. But I give in since I'm still not in the mood. At all. I probably won't ever be.

* * *

><p>My hair is soaked and clinging to my dripping scalp by the time Troy and I scurry into the town's library. Our shoes squeak against the scratchy wood floor and gush out squirts of muddy water with each step we take. But a small and genuine smile is on my face; Troy had zipped me into his jacket he's still wearing right now. My skin burns where I'm pressed up against him despite the dampness of our clothes.<p>

It's not hard to find a table; no one really goes to the library on rainy days.

Troy undoes his jacket and drops it onto my shoulders, zipping it back up. I object, but he assures me that he's fine.

"Liar, I could practically see the goose bumps on your arms right now," I flick him on the elbow. "Take it back."

"No,"

"You'll catch a cold," I shoot back.

"So?"

After a while of going back and forth, I finally give up.

"See, I'm actually not _that_ easy to please," Troy states.

I scowl. Even though the chairs are hard and uncomfortable, I sigh when I take a seat across from Troy. And despite the heat still coming off from two bodies formerly being in this jacket, I'm still trembling like a shaking leaf.

"S-so what do you have in mind… for the project?" My teeth chatter uncontrollably and I hastily run my clammy hands up and down the sleeves of the oversized fleece.

Troy pushes sopping curls from his face. "I was thinking… maybe we could remake the story… like a picture book?"

I nod. "That sounds very exciting. But I'm not good at writing."

"Actually, I enjoy writing." He smiles shyly.

I start to blow my breath into my hands. They're still frosty and stiff. "You should show me a little of your writing sometime. And hey—you still haven't taught me how to make a cake."

"Gladly, and soon."

Before long, Troy has a piece of paper out and is jotting down notes for things we should prepare with onto it.

I rest my head onto the table and lazily watch him. So tired. A lone droplet of rainwater descends from a strand of my hair and lands onto the bridge of my nose. The icy bead snakes down the side of my face. So tired. My eyelids flutter, and suddenly, it's hard to keep them alert and open. I see Troy's mouth shaping words. So tired. I finally succumb and allow my eyes to close. So, _so_ tired.

"Ethelyn, Ethelyn? Can you hear me?" A heated hand planted on my shoulder gives me a light shake. "Etheyln, are you awake?"

I bolt up.

It's Troy. And he offers me a drowsy grin.

I groan. "Oh, I'm _so_ sorry!"

He takes both of my hands in his and starts to massage warmth into my fingers. The sigh escaping my mouth is out of relief.

"It's fine Ethie, but you're burning up."

"That doesn't make sense, I'm freezing," I answer woozily.

"Maybe you have a fever. And you look _extremely_ beat." He takes one of his hands from mine and gently brushes a lock of wet hair from my forehead. "Have you been getting any sleep lately?" He's so warm and friendly and just simply gorgeous. I resist the impulse to nuzzle into his palm. His fingers leave a blazing trail on wherever they slide along. Another strand of hair pushed aside. I swallow at how he gazes straight into my eyes when he continues to fix my hair.

"No, but I'm fine. Really."

"Stop lying," Troy brings his hands back to mine and resumes to whatever he was doing earlier, rubbing life back into my palms. I let him though. Because now they're not as cold as they were earlier. They're screaming and fiery from his touch. "We should get you home."

"I'm fine," I repeat. "We need to get started on our project."

"We can do that as soon as you get better. Shouldn't your health always come first?" He laughs. "If I didn't know, I would've never have guessed that you're a healer."

"Shut up Troy,"

He lets go of my hands and walks over to my side, helps me up. "I'm not joking Ethelyn, I think you have a fever, let's go."

I make a face and stare at him directly in those dreamy blue eyes. "What if I don't want to?" I'm surprised by my sternness. I'm still really tired, but if you ignored my droopy eyes and spaced out expression, I think I would seem really bold and wide-awake.

He stoops down and picks up my bag. "Then I'll try to ignore your attitude." He stands back up and shoots me a look of triumph. A really _tingling_ look triumph. Before I even know it, I'm pressing my icy blue lips against Troy's luscious mouth.

I've never felt so _warm_.

Maybe I _do_ have a fever.

I feel the thud of something crashing to the floor beside my sodden shoes. Maybe it's my bag that Troy had in his hands, because now I can feel his muscly arms encircle me and pull me closer to him. Our kiss develops into a more urgent one, and I can't help myself from enjoying this moment. My craving for him ever since last year starts to unravel. And his lips taste so sweet and heavenly against mine.

An alien and extraordinary feeling starts to surge throughout my body, but it feels so right, so exhilarating. My heart races and desire pulses with the new reaction caressing every inch of skin and limb of my physique, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I love this pleasant sensation.

My heart is still hammering when Troy breaks the kiss. A mixture of various emotions is flying across his face. I'm sure my expression mirrors his.

Then he starts to smile. And I begin to giggle. My blush is unmistakably palpable from underneath his gawking gaze.

"Let's get you home Ethelyn," He finally says after a few seconds of just staring at each other. He fumbles with my bag's handle after picking it up from the wood floor.

I suddenly realize that we're still in the library. I really hope that the librarian wasn't here to see that.

The rain is unforgiving. It sends a shiver down my spine each time a drop hits me. Troy thrusts my bag into my hands right when we get to the back door of the apothecary.

"See you at school, and let your parents know about your fever. They can't afford to have you sick right now," He shouts through chattering teeth. Then he's gone.

I stumble through the door and trudge up the stairs. Shuddering and fighting to keep my eyes open. The last thing I remember is dropping all of my things to the floor and staggering into Zion's bedroom. I collapse into his bed and nod off to sleep, breathing in his scent still lingering on his blankets fisted into my hands.

* * *

><p><strong>Please excuse any grammaticalpunctuation errors. And I really do apologize that it's so short!**

**Also, I wanted to give really fat and happy thank yous to everyone who has subscribed/favorited/reviewed this story :D It truly makes my day :3**

**Until next time my lovelies c:  
>-UnintendedPaperCut xoxox<strong>


	6. Hopes

**A/N  
>Omg you guys. I can't explain to you about how thrilled I get whenever I get a favorite or subscription alert. Whenever I heard the ring come from my phone telling me I had an email from Fanfiction, I actually did my own little happy dance. [Dorky mehh -,-] It really makes my day, and certainly motivates me. So I've been working on this chapter last night so I could post it today ccc: And I really hope you guys like it. And I also made a HUGE mistake in the last chapter: Zion couldn't possibly be going into the arena the next day, he has an interview—gahh! Lol OH YEAH, one last thing!<br>Dear Lorelei Eve (sorry If I spelt your name wrong c: ), ahwww, that sounds totally nice. And I'll find a way to squeeze the Hawthorne's story in here somehow, especially for you! :D  
>Okay naowww, ENJOII~<strong>

* * *

><p>I groggily stir to reality. My hair is plastered to my scalp and sweat seems like the only thing I'm covered in. I sit up and take in my surroundings. I'm in my room, not Zion's. A mug of tea sits on my night table and dangling on my doorknob is a dark blue jacket, probably to dry. I stare at it, puzzled, and then I realize that it's Troy's. <em>Troy's<em>.

Rapidly, everything starts to rush back to me. School, the library, that amazing and breathtaking kiss.

I feel a lot better. Still tired, sad, but I'm not as light headed.

"Mom!" I call out. My voice is raspy. Hushed and croaky. "Mom!"

While I wait for her, I reach for the mug to my side. Steam still rises from it and I snuffle in the sweet aroma. Mm, Mom's famous blueberry leaf tea with honey—my favorite.

I'm almost halfway through with the drink when Mom enters the room. She smiles at my appearance.

"You feel okay? Troy called a little after Dad found you sleeping in Zion's bed." She saunters over and sits on the edge of my mattress. Her cool palm pressed upon my forehead causes me to sigh.

I set my mug back onto the night table. "A little bit, thank you." I gaze up at her. "How long have I been sleeping? Did I miss the scores?"

Her answer is hesitant. "Yes… It's morning now."

My jaw slacks. "Then what did he get?"

Mom's grin is back on her face, and she squirms in excitement. "Oh you just wouldn't believe it. But he got a nine!"

I sit up. And that's a _huge_ mistake. My head feels like it just flopped and I crash back into my support of pillows. Trying to ignore the feeling of a spinning brain, I clap. It's the least I could do. "That's great!"

"I know!" Mom gushes. "Now get back to sleep, I don't think you'll be going to school for a few days."

I open my mouth to object. Her finger is pushed up against my mouth to shut me up.

"Don't worry, I'll wake you up before Zion's interview—and one more thing, why was it that Troy called yesterday? Not Iliana, Maysilee, Sharon or any of your other friends?"

I feel my teeth grind against each other. "We went to the library… Remember, I have an English project with him?"

She nods her head slowly. "And _why_ do you have his coat?" She waves at the jacket hanging from the doorknob.

"I was really cold. I told him not to…" I trail off. There's no explaining I should be doing here. Heck, I even argued with him about it.

"Well," Mom says. "That was very gentlemen like and chivalrous of him—but don't give into boys that easily! It's just this once I'm letting it slip by." She gets up from my bed. "Maysilee or Iliana will deliver your schoolwork for each day you're absent. When they come today, give them Troy's jacket to return, sound good?"

"Yes, Mom,"

"Alright then," She looks around my bedroom for a moment and says, "If you need anything else, just call me. But you need your rest."

"Right ahead of you; I'm exhausted."

She's halfway through the doorframe now. "Sweet dreams hon," The door closes behind her.

My eyelids fall, and suddenly, sleep has never sounded so enchanting.

* * *

><p>I'm in the middle of soaking in a really soothing bath when Mom comes knocking on the bathroom's door.<p>

"Iliana's here with your schoolwork!"

"Mom!" I cry out. "I'm taking a bath!"

"Too bad! She's in your room, don't keep her waiting!" She commands through the door. Her footsteps fade.

I frown and reluctantly rise from the steamy water Mom had treated with floral essential oils.

Soon, my nightgown is on. I grab a small bottle of lotion and a comb from the medicine cabinet before heading to my room.

Iliana jumps from my bed right when I walk in.

"What happened Ethelyn!" She sounds anxious, which is rare, coming from her.

"Nothing," I plop down onto my bed and pat on the spot next to me. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, well," She watches as I sparingly lather on my moisturizer. "You never really miss school… But that's not what I meant." Her lips purse and she exhales exasperatedly when I furrow my brow at her.

"I'm listening," I tell her.

Iliana picks up the comb I got from earlier, scoots herself behind me and starts to brush through my dripping and stringy hair. "Your mother told me to not to forget to remind you that I need to return Troy's jacket when I came in."

"Ha, oh, _that_,"

Her brushing becomes more rough and aggressive from anticipation. Iliana's usual sneaky voice turns into the energetic tone her twin sister often uses. "So tell me, what happened!"

"Close the door and maybe I will," What's the point; I'll need to let her know anyway, right? Besides, boy talk usually lifts a down spirit. And I have been dying to spill the beans.

The door of my room slams in the middle of my suggestion and she's sitting cross legged in front of me a second after that.

The words pour out of my mouth in an instant and she's squealing and giggling the whole entire time. I can't help but blush and smile along with her.

"He likes you stupid!" Iliana stabs me in the arm with her finger.

"No! He doesn't,"

"Ethie! First, he made you a cake and bought you that striking golden pin. Then, he kissed you that day _and _yesterday! He also was massaging your hands like you guys were married couple! What more evidence do you need!"

"Ill-eee-yahh-nuhhh. Quit it!" My eyes shoot at my door. I bet my mother could probably hear our whole conversation. And the last thing I need is a lecture about boys and kissing them from her and Dad.

But she keeps tittering and teasing me about how red I am right now.

I cross my arms and close my eyes. Finally, she stops.

"Thank you," I say airily.

"We need to have a sleepover. Soon. All the girls!" Iliana squeals.

The word sleepover sends a smile to visit my face. A mild and unpleasant smile. The last time I had a sleepover with everyone it grew into such a disaster that I lost a friend. After that, whenever I got invited to one, I would politely turn down the offer.

Iliana's grin slides off of her face. "Oh c'mon Ethelyn. Just this once! Suzzette will obviously not be there and you could really use a girls' night right now." She places a hand on my knee and stares at me hopefully.

"Fine," I sigh after a little bit of persistent convincing.

"Great!" Iliana beams and crawls back over behind me. Her hair brushing resumes.

"So, where's my schoolwork?" I ask.

"Oh, nowhere. We don't have any; the interviews are tonight."

I play with a piece of loose string unraveling from the hem of my sleep dress. "How could I forget?" I say sarcastically.

Iliana just laughs then gets up after plaiting my hair. "Well I should get going now. You get better, and that's a demand." She leans down and wraps me into a tight hug. "Call the morning you think you'll be coming to school; Maysilee is whining about how much she misses us walking to school." She pulls back with a smile.

I roll my eyes. "It's only been one day!"

"Yeah, but you know how Maysilee is."

"Of course, good old Maysilee."

Soon, Iliana's gone with Troy's jacket and Mom comes in to replace my mug of blueberry leaf tea.

"Any better?" She asks while pressing a damp washcloth onto my forehead.

"Still tired,"

Mom helps me back under my blankets. "I'll wake you up a little before the interviews." She kisses me lightly on the cheek. "Call me if you need anything."

"Will do,"

I'm out before she has even left my room.

* * *

><p><em>We're all sitting in a circle, Indian style on the fluffy carpet of Suzette Prescott's bedroom.<em>

"_Alright, who's next?" She declares enthusiastically. _

"_Ethelyn!" All of my friends chant in harmony. _

"_Okay Ethie," Suzette turns to me with a big smile. "Truth or dare?"_

"_Hmm, truth!"_

_Everyone groans but Peyton Lambirth screeches, "I have the perfect truth!" She squirms_

"_Say it then," Sharon Lutz advises with a giggle. _

"_Okay, and __**no**__ lying!" Peyton eyes me with raised brows. I nod. "Do you like anyone…"_

_I'm about to answer with a big fat no, my secret crush on Troy Mellark is only know by the Donners, Sharon and Dali Hampton and I am going to tell Suzette later on today because I think I could trust her on this one, when Peyton is still not done with asking her question._

"…_let's say, a very dreamy Eugene Truhart?" _

"_Ooos" echo all around the room but Suzette remains silent, her face scrunched. _

"_No, of course not!" I say. All of my friends shoot me skeptical looks—because I have to like someone, right? "I mean, I- why would he like me anyway!" I quickly add._

_Savannah Boyle's jaw drops. "Excuse me, but who __**wouldn't**__ like you? You're pretty, sweet and you always wear the loveliest of dresses, besides Suzette. But other than that, are you crazy? Or blind!" _

_I blush and stammer, "Stop lying."_

"_She'd be lying if she told you that Eugene doesn't like you…" Iliana says with a smirk._

"_Yeah!" Peyton and Sharon shout._

_My confused face earns a groan from everyone._

"_Well, where shall we start?" Dali chirps. "Remember that one time Eugene sprained his arm and he asked you to sign his cast? You should've seen him in the morning! Almost every girl at school was begging to sign it and he rejected every single one of their requests. Haven't you ever wondered why it was blank when he asked?" _

"_Yeah! And remember when he wanted to know if you had a partner for the field trip to the coal mines?" Savannah enhances. Just as excited. _

_I huff. "You guys, he's just being friendly."_

_Ilaiana raises her brows. "Believe whatever you wish to believe."_

_Suzette gives me a weak smile._

_After constant "Ethelyn he likes you!" memories, it's finally Suzette's turn. I'm glad that they're through with grilling me about a boy I don't even like. _

"_So Suzette, truth or dare?" Sharon presses._

"_Dare," She answers sullenly. _

"_Hmmm…" Sharon chews on her bottom lip and squints. "I dare you to… oh-oh! Call Eugene Truhart and ask him who he likes in a disguised voice!" Her eyes flicker at me. "I bet he'll say Ethelyn!"_

_Suzette exhales shakily. "Yeah sure, uhm, okay."_

_The other line picks up after a few rings when Suzette punches in Eugene's house number._

"_Hello?" A female voice answers._

"_May I please speak to Eugene, I'm a school friend," Suzette says in a sugary tone._

"_Of course," A rustle and a muted "Eugene, someone's on the phone for you!", then a boy's voice.  
>"Hello?" He sounds out of breath. <em>

_All of us compress snorting giggles._

"_Is this Eugene?" Suzette asks in a strange drawl. _

"_Uhmm… yeah."_

"_I have a question for you,"_

"_Ask away then…."_

"_Do you promise not to lie?"_

_A pause. "Sure,"_

"_Okay then… who do you like?" Suzette glances at us and Dali gives her an eager thumbs up. _

"_Why do you ask?"_

"_Answer me first," Suzette's expression is different than normal, expectant and nervous. _

"_Well then… let's play a game then,"_

_She scoffs. "What do you mean—a game?"_

"_It'll be fun. Are you in?" Eugene asks._

_Suzette locks eyes with Sharon who nods impatiently. "Okay then, but we—I mean __**I**__—don't have all night."_

"_Don't worry; I think you'll catch on pretty quickly. Now, who do you __**think**__ I like?"_

_Suzette softly laughs. "I don't know. That's why I asked in the first place."_

"_Uh… you know the game Hot and Cold?"_

"_Who doesn't?"_

"_Okay, there you go then."_

_Suzette winces and turns to us for help._

"_Ask if he she's from the Seam," Peyton quietly hisses. _

"_Is she from the Seam?" Suzette says into the phone._

"_Cold."_

"_So she's a merchant?"_

"_Hot,"_

"_She's pretty?"_

"_Extremely hot." _

_A snort comes from Maysilee and it's even hard for me to swallow my guffaw._

_Suzette blinks. "Wait—which hot do you mean?"_

"_Oh—I mean like warm, like… never mind."_

"_Oh… okay… Which shop does her family run?"_

"_I'm only going to answer with a hot or cold." _

"_Oh, oops," Suzette stomps in frustration and glares at us. "Help me!" She mouths._

"_Just ask if it's Ethelyn!" Savannah whispers._

"_Is-is it Ethelyn Chadwick?" Suzette's voice is now normal._

"_Wait! Is this Ethelyn!"_

_That's enough to answer her question. Suzette crams the phone into its cradle and whispers, "Excuse me, I need to go… wash up."_

"_We'll be here," Iliana calls after her._

_We all crawl into the pile of snug blankets we threw onto the floor and stare up at the ceiling after Dali blows out all the candles. Peyton giggles about how Eugene has the hots for me. But I don't like him!_

"_Hey, Savannah," Maysilee says from beside me. "When is your older sister's toasting?"_

"_Mmm, Kalista's toasting is next week, why?"_

"_Just wondering what I should wear,"Maysilee replies. _

_Peyton sits up abruptly. "Holy! You two just gave me the bestest idea ever!" She goes on with our asking. "If Eugene's going to your sister's toasting, then Ethelyn should sit by him! Oh my jeebles—I'm so clever! Let's ask him to save the seat next to his for Ethie when we see him at school!"_

"_You're so smart Peyton!"_

"_I know, I know!"_

_I scrunch my face. And good thing it's dark too, because I don't want to disappoint any of them._

"_Yeah, I guess that would be nice," I manage to murmur dully._

"_Alright then! It's plan!" _

_A few seconds later, Suzette comes back in with a gloomy sigh. "Let's get to bed," She says glumly. _

"_What?" Maysilee moans. "We haven't even done anything exciting yet! Iliana has the perfect ghost story to tell!"_

"_Yeah!" The rest of us chime in a chorus._

"_Whatever, I'm going to sleep. Good night." Suzette yanks her blanket up and over her face. _

_::::_

_I don't like my outfit._

_It's itchy, scratches my knees and is tight at the shoulders. It's also a dark green that looks horrible on me. A little smidgen of the things I don't like. _

_Maysilee and Iliana shuffle right behind the slow trudging of my flats. My eyes glaze the small crowd of guests for Kalista Boyle and her groom's toasting. I try to find a few seats far from Eugene, Peyton and Sharon were super excited to ask him for me to sit by him… and unfortunately he said yes._

_My eyes land on him and I turn, heading in the opposite direction._

"_Just __**what**__ do you think you're doing!" Maysilee hisses._

"_Finding some seats for us… __**duh**__." I meekly answer._

"_Don't act like we didn't see you look at Eugene. Get you behind over there." Iliana orders. _

_I huff. "No, I don't want to! You already know that I like—"_

"_But you still can't leave him hanging!" Maysilee exclaims._

_My hope of slipping out of this plan dies completely. Withers like the flowers my mom dries after she purchases them from the floral shop. _

"_**Fine**_**, **_but I'm not doing anything like this for you guys—ever."_

_Maysilee giggles and says quickly, "Okay!" She and Iliana start pushing me toward the row of chairs Eugene is in._

"_Ever," I quietly repeat when we approach him. And Suzette is sitting right next to him. Suddenly, I have a feeling that my good friend could tell that I'm not into Eugene like that. I mouth a desperate thanks to her before turning around. Iliana shoves me onto Eugene's lap that second. _

_What a scene we're creating! All the toasting's invitees' eyes are on us._

_I draw my bottom lip in between my teeth to prevent the string of bad names I feel like screaming at Maysilee and Iliana right now. _

"_Oh, hey,"_

_Something airy and warm tickles the soft flesh of my ear. I flinch and realize that I'm __**still**__ on Eugene's lap. I quickly scramble to my feet and shamefully turn to face him. _

"_Uh, uh, I'm _so_ sorry about that. I should get going now," My shoes are spinning on their heels when Eugene sputters, "No, I was saving this seat for you." He glances at Suzette, who's in the chair I don't want to be in and who looks like she's about to cry. _

_And then it all starts to make sense._

_She likes Eugene. Actually __**likes**__ him. Why didn't she ever tell me this? I feel like such an awful friend._

"_No, no, it's fine; Suzette's sitting there. And—" I nervously rub the fabric of my dress in between my fingers. "And, uh…"_

"_But I was saving this seat for you…"_

_Suzette makes a strange face then stammers, "No, I'll just leave. I apologize that I was intruding your… reservations."_

_I'm about to tell her to quit being silly and stay there when she springs up from her chair and the things on her lap I hadn't noticed before crash to the ground._

_A red plaid scarf. A matching pair of mittens._

_These must've been created by the hands of Suzette. I mean, she grew up helping her parents run a clothing shop. She probably also made them __**for**__ him._

_I choke on my breath. "Suzette, __**please**__, sit back down."_

"_No, I'll leave," She bends down and begins to gather her stuff._

_I kneel to help her._

_She starts to swat my hands away and I don't blame her. I just embarrassed her in front of a whole bunch of people… and her crush. _

_Our eyes meet and I could just see that I'll never be forgiven. Tears are threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes and she stands up before she could break down in front of everyone. With her things gripped to her chest, Suzette runs off, hiccupping wildly. _

_I'm a horrible person._

_I'm __**such**__ a horrible person._

* * *

><p>Mom woke me up not even two minutes before the interviews started. My hair is still in a tangled braid and my nightgown is drenched in sweat and clinging to me when I join my parents on the couch. They don't pay any mind to my unhygienic state though; Cesar Flickerman and his yellow suit is warming up his audience on the TV screen.<p>

"Greetings Panem! I'm hoping you all have had a pleasant evening this day! And what's more better than finishing off a great time with interviewing our tributes!" He grins from the crowd's applause. "Now, dazzling and from District One, our very own Trina DuPrau is next to start us off this fabulous night!"

The audience claps and whistles when the District One girl walks onto the stage. She's absolutely breathtaking. Glossy curls of sunshine that dance to a stop at her slim waist, a flowy and red gown accentuating the curves and swells of her physique. I know I'm not the only one who thinks she's attractive because when she takes a seat across from Cesar Flickerman, he has a gloved hand good-humoredly clapped to his mouth.

"My Go, she's beautiful," Mom says.

Cesar Flickerman brings his hands back to his lap. "Good evening Trina, you look undeniably glorious this night."

Trina smiles. "Thank you. My stylist Trixie does work some wonders."

"I'd be a complete liar if I didn't agree so," Cesar crosses his legs so that one knee is over the other. "Anyway Trina, how are you enjoying the Capitol so far? Any new experiences you want to share with us today?"

She purses her lustrous lips and gazes at the ceiling. "Wellll, the food is quite scrumptious." This earns a laugh. "The beds are wonderful and oh—almost forgot! The showers. Those are just amazing."

"Are there any scents that you prefer out of your shower's selection?"

Trina responds instantly. "The watermelon foam!"

"Now _that_ is one of my favorites," Cesar nods his head approvingly. "Now tell me Trina, how did you get that ten in training?"

"Oh, _that?" _She giggles. "I'm like a gymnast when it comes to flexibility and throwing punches is a hobby of mine. But that's all I'm going to spill right now. You'll discover the rest, sooner or later." Her smile is mysterious yet gets a bunch of male whoops from the crowd.

The buzzer sounds a few moments later and the rest of the interviews slowly creep by. The Comet guy from One is a merciless brute, the District Three girl is different than most; outgoing but blurting out strange things, the boy from Four is blind, the tributes of Seven are cousins and the guy from Ten spends most of his time entertaining the audience by touching the very top of his nose with his tongue.

A veil of balmy sweat curtains my palms when Shay Muck unsteadily climbs onto the platform. Zion is next, Zion is next.

I hate to admit this, but she's extremely boring to listen to. Quiet, twiddling her thumbs and blushing about her surprising seven in training. I'm relieved when her buzzer screams for her to get off of the stage.

Dad has a look of proudness on his face when Zion takes a seat in the interview chair. He looks handsome, like, _really_ handsome. It's almost easy to forget about his costume from the opening ceremonies. His golden hair is combed back and the light he's showered in catches a few glints of the unnecessary yet so necessary sparkles of his suit. When I see that he's smiling, I mirror his expression.

Cesar clasps his hands together. "Zion Chadwick! We've all been waiting to get to know you better."

Zion grins. "Well Cesar, it has always been a dream of mine to be able to meet you and shake your hand."

The interviewer appears to be genuinely flattered. "Well, dreams like those aren't always hard to achieve. Am I right or am I right?" I can't help but roll my eyes at his last comment.

"You're absolutely correct," Zion agrees.

Cesar chuckles then leans forward as if he wants to discuss some secret business. "Well Zion, I've heard that you're quite talented with the sledgehammer. Is that just a rumor or…"

Zion nods. "Actually, the sledgehammer is pretty cool to deal with. Picking plants is also easy too."

I'm shocked to hear this. The _sledgehammer_? That is terribly vicious, that is just so…

"Would it be rude of me to ask exactly why you're good with plants?"

Zion shakes his head. "Not at all. My family owns an apothecary shop. I help them out every now and then."

Cesar chuckles. "Very interesting. Wouldn't be surprised if the girls back in Twelve hurt themselves just so they could be fixed up by you!"

A shrug from Zion. "Well, you know, now that you mention it."

Some laughs from the crowd. I even hear a "I'd break my leg for you!". Wow.

"Now Zion, can I ask, do you think that you have the potential to come out of this year's Hunger Games?"

Zion's expression doesn't change. Not in the least bit. "Honestly? Between you and me, I don't know Cesar, you tell me."

"How about we ask our viewers?" Cesar suggests.

The crowd screams and thunders in answer.

In due time, Zion's interview is over and a huge grin is on my face.

I think that my brother will be coming back home to us.

* * *

><p>Mom wakes me up the next morning to a mug of chicken broth.<p>

"Up, up," She coaxes. "The Games are going to begin any minute now."

I yawn as I take the mug from her. "Why do they even start them in the morning?"

Mom just smiles. "You're lucky you're staying home. If you were at school you'd just get updates."

Shortly, we're all sitting on the sofa in the family room, staring intently at the screen with soup clutched into our hands.

Then the screen turns white.

"Wait—what just happened to our TV!" Mom exclaims.

Twenty four glass cylinders with teenagers trapped into them rise from the white. And as soon as my eyes adjust, I could make out everything. Small slopes of ivory slush. Shrouds of feathery white descending from above.

A quick shot of the tributes. And you could just see the panic crossing Zion's face when the camera's on him.

"No honey. I think that's snow." Dad says dreadfully.

All faith that took such a long time to develop within me for my brother crushes. Just like that. It's snow.

I really hope that Zion has enough sponsors to get him going. Just enough to get him through the first day would be enough.

* * *

><p><strong>Was it good? Was it bad? I really want to know what you guys think c: Constructive critisiscm isn't frowned upon on my fanfics so please do feel free to point out mistakes, just purdehh please no flames c:<strong>

**Also, how do you guys picture the characters? Are the certain celebrities, specific friends you have, or just a random person you came up with in your head that you imagine while reading? I'd really like to hear what you guys picturecc:**

**Anywho, I hope you enjoied this chapter. There's more to come **

**-UnintendedPaperCut xoxoxox**


	7. Snow

**Hey guys c:  
>I'm sorry I didn't ask for your permission before but a part of this chapter is in Zion's POV. I promise that next time I plan to switch around POV's I'll ask for your opinion. Also, Aiden is in this chapter! <strong>**And he'll be in the next one, and the next, and the next one and you get the point c;  
>Anywhoo , I hope you guys enjoii~~<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Zion POV<strong>

My heart's beating pauses right when the glass tube I'm sealed off in rises into the arena. My hands attempt to grasp at the crystal clear walls sinking back into the ground, but they don't stay. No, no, I can't be here, let me go back in!

It's a wintry cold; a frosty gust nips pitilessly at my cheeks. Curly wisps of white whirl out from my nostrils with each steady breathe I take.

_Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. In. Out._

It can't be. It can't be. Just the wind I'm feeling grows the apprehension building up inside of me.

White tendrils of cold and feathery ice tumbles from the gray sky, and I'm thankful that the boots I'm laced up in are thick and sturdy because the frozen slush at my feet wouldn't make things any better if it melted into them.

I take in a whistly breath. _In. Out. In. Out._

It can't be. It really, _really_ can't be. But it is.

The tip of my nose is already red and my face is numb by the time Claudius Templesmith's countdown has begun.

_60, 59, 58, 57, 56…_

I tune out his voice and flex my furry gloved fingers. I can't believe that it was just a half hour ago when my retard stylist was bundling me up in to puffy outerwear. I should've probably had already guessed that the arena would be glacial, snowy, if she was dressing me into such warm clothing.

_44, 43, 42, 41_…

Stay strong Zion. Breathe in then out. Head up high; people are watching you right now. Your parents are watching you right now. Ethie is watching you right now. Heck, all of Panem's watching you right now. _In. Out_. Don't blow your chance with the sponsors—if you have any.

_32, 31, 30, 29…._

My eyes scan the ring of tributes spanned out equidistance from the gleaming Cornucopia. The blind boy from Four to my left, a chubby girl to my right. I search the faces more desperately when Templesmith is on the number 20.

Then I see her. Green eyes wide and staring straight at me. Her mouth is moving to.

I squint.

"_The trees_,"

The trees. The trees!

_3, 2, 1!_

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 49th annual Hunger Games begin!"

My feet scuffle for a second before Trina DuPrau is right in my face, frantically pushing me backwards.

"Move you idiot!" She hisses. "I'll catch up to you in a second." She's running back to the Cornucopia when I spin on my heel and dash right into the evergreen tree forest. The lush green and piney leaves are swathed in a powdery veil of snow. Ugh, snow.

The trees' arms reach out and scratch my face as I break off into a run. I have to hold my breath to keep from screaming at the sight of the snowy environment. It's falling on me, I'm hurtling on it, it's covering everything I see. Holy crap it's freaking _everywhere_!

I continue to run though. If I die from my phobia, the least I could do is show my family that I was trying, that I never wanted to dishonor them.

It feels like a whole day has passed when I hear the footfalls of Trina speeding up behind me.

My breathing is labored and strained when I say, "Oh my God Trina, where were you?"

A heavy and growling something tackles me from behind. I collapse into the firm yet soft snow, my face burying into the cold. I snap my head up in panic, gasping for air. "Tr-tr-Trina! Is that you?"

I knew it. I just _knew_ it! The District One girl was gonna turn her back on me sooner or later. But why on the first day? Come _on_ now.

A sweaty hand claps over my mouth and a hostile voice sneers into my ear, "Shut up Twelve. Let's make this quick."

I'm flipped over to my side. Then I'm looking directly into the eyes of the girl cousin from District Seven. She's hovering over me, straddling me to the sludgy ground with a vile grin stretching on her lips.

I glare into her hazel eyes. "Get off of me." She is so dang heavy. I squirm anxiously from beneath her. I. Can't. Get. Her. Off!

"What's a low thing like you allying with District One?"

My nose flares and I fist a handful of snow into my hands, shoving it into her face. That's just enough to get her off guard. Now I'm pinning her to the ground.

"You're a stupid little thing, you know that?" She toys with something to her side. I realize that it's a knife a second after she's burrowing it into my chin.

It _hurts_. The pain blisters through my jawline, a trail of stinging hotness and burning like rubbing alcohol on an open cut. It's not long until a small puddle of red has soaked into the ice carpet we're wrestling on.

"OhmyGod You—" My voice is smothered because now she's ramming her elbow into my mouth and shoving me onto my back again.

My jacket is literally torn off of me and flung to the side. She starts to snigger hideously as her knife digs into me for a second time, but now it's my shoulder.

Where is Trina?

I raise my arm to stuff my fisting hand into her maliciously pleased face, but it won't budge. Warm and watery blood sprays from the gash instead. The stupid girl stuffs her opposite elbow in to my mouth and begins to work on my other shoulder.

"Wondering why I won't kill you already?" The sharp tip of her blade gently drags against my arm's skin, stretching it out into a taut plain. "Districts One, Two and Four aren't the only sick ones here."

I wince as I rub my bleeding chin onto my equally bloody shoulder. The blood smears but my head's newly found position is bent enough to see the backpack the girl has dropped at her feet earlier.

Can I reach it? Probably not. But I have to try something… _do_ something.

I shove my knee into her midsection. This earns a guttural moan to escape her and I roll her off of me with a harsh push of my leg. I struggle to sit up, a fine layer of perspiration starts to build up on the skin of my hairline. When I finally am standing, the girl is still whimpering and writhing like the rare possessed patients we get at the apothecary. How hard did I hit her?

The knife is still clutched in her hand, looks like it'll be hard to snatch it from her. So I bend down and unzip her backpack. As I sift through the pack's contents, I try to ignore her growling sentences abundant in curse words.

"After you kill me, Xanthos will go after you. I promise that." She seethes, holding at her stomach.

"Already given up," I state rather than question. My tone is bitter and agitated; the backpack has no weapons! I toss it back the ground and my eyes drop down to the knife in her hands. The thought of having to wrestle that from her and kill her with it causes an immense and dreadful clump to grow in my throat.

The girl laughs darkly "I have a hip problem. Even if you do have the mercy to not kill me, I won't be able to get up and then I'll freeze to death."

I arch an eyebrow, my eyes still on the knife and my hand stuffed up on my chin to at least staunch the blood flowing from my face. "That sounds better, letting you suffer."

She scoffs and her lips begin to move oddly. Quivering like a leech. "Xanthos will kill you, I know it." Her strange mouth movements resume.

I guess I should just go for the knife. I reach for it but without warning her hand rises and she sinks the blade into the palm of my left hand. It stabs straight through my glove flawlessly. My teeth bury deep into my bottom lip to avoid the yelp I let out anyway.

"I said my _hips_. The rest of my body is functioning just fine, retard." She twists the blade around. It's agonizingly unbearable.

With my good hand, I smack hers away and her fingers remove themselves from the knife's handle with ease. I hold my breath and swiftly yank the knife from the tender of my palm. Despite the afterward puncture, it's relieving.

Putrid and sappy spittle flies onto my face and lands onto the hollow of my cheek the moment I drive the blood slick knife into the girl's chest. So that's why her lips were all weird.

A crimson river streams from her upper body and dribbles down into the snow. It looks like she's laying in a red slush. And it's nasty. The air is pungent from blood and sweat.

It's not long when I hear her cannon blow. I don't even bother to take the knife from being wedged in her. I only grab her backpack and sprint off into the opposite direction.

I just killed someone.

**Ethelyn POV**

It was a few days before Zion's birthday and a little after mine when I did it. The season was wintertime, chilly and laden with sleet and blizzards.

Zion and I always pranked each other and the last time he pranked me, he poured sleep syrup into my hair shampoo, which made my hair extremely sticky and clumpy for a whole week. I had to figure out a way to get back at him. After it had happened, we never pulled jokes off on each other again. Ever. My plan was a bit _too_ successful. Stained our relationship just by a little then.

As I watch Zion meet up with District One's Trina a little after he killed the Seven girl on screen, I wonder how he is coping with the climate of the arena. He must be secretly freaking out because he's being persistent about how they need to find shelter soon while Trina attempts to clean up his ghastly wounds.

He was sleeping when it happened. I had to have some of his friends help me because I couldn't carry him on my own.

Lorenzo Dempsey and Preston Mace hauled him down the stairs and to the backyard while Bennet Hurst helped me dig a shallow pit in the snow. It was easy, for them to lower him into the hole and gently cover him in a thin sheet of snow.

I thought that it would've been funny. That Zion would've eventually woken up, slapped me on the back and laugh, "Good one sis," like always.

But no.

Zion didn't wake up until after dark. His nose was chapped and runny and his skin was as pale as moonlight by the time he ran into the house. The way he was sobbing, crying about how he was choking and the thin layer I created froze up as the temperature dropped, made me realize how I took the prank way too far.

My parents spanked me so bad that night I woke up the next morning. They forced me to go to school that day without treating my bruises and welts. They also didn't feed me dinner for the rest of that week. But I deserved it. I really did.

And I also know that if Zion dies because of the weather of the arena, a huge part of it will be my fault. My parents will probably never forgive me. I have to find a way to fix that.

That's why after a little bit of watching the Games and around the time school should be over, I tell my parents I feel a bit better and that I'll take on a chunk of the apothecary's afternoon shift.

"Are you sure you could handle that all by yourself?" Dad asks after I changed into my plain cobalt frock I wear if I have the time to work.

"Yes, Dad."

"Okay, but if you aren't feeling as good, or if you need help, come get your father or me, understand?" Mom says.

"Mom, I'll be fine."

She looks unconvinced, but then she agrees, saying how she is tired afterall from the lack of help from Zion and me, and walks me down the stairs.

I wave her goodbye a second before she leaves.

Today Aiden Everdeen should be bringing another batch of plants. If Mom or Dad worked this shift and discovered the swapping going on between him and I, not only would they blame the nonexistent coal dust tracks in here on him, they would also blame me for allowing it and if Zion died. I really do not need any of that right now.

"Hey Aiden!" I shout a bit too excitedly when he walks through the door.

"Uhm, hi." He sets a collection of plants onto the counter.

I bite my lip at how stiffly he greeted me, but then again, it's not often when town people are nice to Seam kids. But I need him to think differently right now, I _need_ his help.

I realize that I have just been standing there behind the counter saying nothing when Aiden clears his throat and stutters, "Uhh, are you gonna—"

"Oh, sorry!" I fist up the usual amount of money I pay him with and thrust in into his hand.

"Yeah, thanks… see you around," Aiden starts for the door.

"Wait!" I blurt out before he has the chance to leave.

He turns his torso toward me with one foot still in the air. "Yes?"

"I have a question," I stammer, red-faced because I know he's going to think I'm childlike and foolish for even asking.

Aiden walks over and props his elbows onto the countertop. His smile seems like the first genuine one I've ever seen from him made for me.

"Well don't just stand there and look at me like that—tell me." He says

I blink a few times before asking, "Uh, I know this sounds stupid but, do you know how to get a sponsor gift to my brother?" My cheeks must be flustering up like crazy.

Aiden eyes me, his forehead creased. "No, that's not a stupid question. But why are you asking me and c'mon—the first day isn't even over yet." He lets out a small chuckle.

I feel my tensed shoulders relax a bit; glad about how easygoing he is. "I know, but for in the future. And I heard that you Seam people were able to send a sponsor gift to one of your friends with the help of that black market you trade at." A knot develops in my abdomen; I really hope I didn't come off as rude when I said 'you Seam people'.

I guess it didn't affect him, because he simply corrects, "It's called the Hob."

My voice is strangely defensive when I retort, "Same difference, Aiden, that place is illegal either way!"

He laughs again. "You're so naïve, but you seem smarter than most."

My brow furrows at this. What does that mean? "Well are you planning on helping me or not?" I question in a small voice.

"Sure, but you're going to have to come with me."

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><p><strong>It was bad . I know! Purdehh please forgive me you guys... It's just that I'm about to head off and rewatch the Hunger Games with my liddo twin sister :D<strong>

**anywho , Ilu guys so much ! Stay tuned **

**-UnintendedPaperCut **


	8. Friends?

A chorus of soft snoring echoes all around the house as I quietly slip out from my bed.

Aiden said he would help me only if I contributed to the 'help'. So here I am getting dressed into warm clothing to go to the black market when I should be in bed.

I tie my hair up into a knot, pull on a pair of shoes and throw on a snug sweater before tiptoeing out of my room. My breath is deeply sucked in as I soundlessly tread across the floorboards in front of the door of my parent's bedroom. I hesitantly let a lungful of air out when I approach the stairs. It feels like a whole week has eerily passed by when I stealthily shut the back door of the apothecary shop with flourish.

A triumphant grin finds its way onto my lips.

"Psst!"

Jumping at the sudden sound, I swallow a snarl when the shadow of who could only be Aiden Everdeen slinks over to me.

"What took you so long?" He whispers.

I feel a frown take over my face that's enclosed in darkness; the only source of light we have here in District Twelve is moonlight or the rare flashlight from a Peacekeeper taking part in night duty.

"I was _not_ taking a long time! I was actually pretty quick!"

I swear I could see Aiden's gray eyes roll.

I'm aware of how red I am from embarrassment when I feel heat rise in my cheeks. The awning I'm beneath that blocks the moonlight from hitting my face is my best friend right now.

"Aha, no Ethelyn you weren't. Honestly you were taking your time. What if someone saw me waiting here for you? What do you think they would think?"

I clench my teeth, upset at how defensive I get over the littlest of things. "That's beside the point Aiden… Are you taking me to that black market or should I get back inside?"

"It's the Hob."

"Same difference!" I screech just like earlier today.

I realize that my outburst wasn't thought over by me because Aiden pushes me to the brick wall and is now squatting over me.

I'm still in a hunched ball, his crouching body shielding mine when I see a beam of light bounce on the wall I'm pressed to.

"Hey!" I hear. "Who's there!"

Aiden brings a finger to my lips before I could let out a gasp at the sound of a Peacekeeper.

I'm taken aback by this action.

My eyes are staring at him the whole time he watches the circle of light lazily investigate the area we're huddling in until the Peacekeeper mutters, "Stupid raccoons," and leaves.

I guess his jacket blends in with the bricks. It's probably his hunting jacket too because it smells like pine and animal. Not the best odor, but it's not exactly gross either.

Aiden stands up a second later and exhales coolly. "It's been a while since I've seen a Peacekeeper out on night patrol."

"What? Are there certain reasons why they come out at night? Are they searching for something?"

"Uhm, yeah," His feet shuffle. "Now let's go before your parents wake up and discover that you left."

I let out a small laugh. "Yeah, wouldn't want that." I sit there for a while, waiting for him to extend a hand my way to help me up. But wait, we barely even know each other… silly me. I clamber to my feet shamefully.

We're walking down the lane a moment later.

Aiden's faint whistling adds to the freakiness of this inexcusable night stroll. I cringe in fear from just the sight of our shadows or a slight rustle of a tree swaying from the evening breeze. A shiver dances down my spine.

"Uhm, Aiden?" I'm sort of wobbly by the time we're near the outskirts of the Seam. I've never really been here before; my parents strictly forbade Zion and me to. Even if our faucets aren't working, it takes a bunch of sweet-talking for them to just allow Zion to fetch water from the Seam's well.

"Yeah?"

I gaze around for a second as we step into the official neighborhood of the Seam. It's terribly dark, but I could make out the silhouettes of the rumored homeless people that I now know exist, stray animals scurrying about. I would expect the Seam to be scary, especially at a black time like this, with all the small bungalows sinister and enveloped in shadows and cinder streets, but, it isn't—it's terrifying. I can't help the trembling of my shoulders.

"I, uh, I uh… Isn't it dangerous… to be going to that black market so late at night?"

"The Hob?" He says teasingly for the third time this day.

My stomach churns as we continue our trek and I have to snub the nagging impulse to shrink up next to him—I feel so… I don't know!

"Well, yeah, that…" I mumble. "Sorry."

He chuckles, but it doesn't relieve the terror burdening my shaking shoulders. "Don't worry. No one's going to bite you."

"Of course not."

"C'mon, don't be a chicken; we're almost there." He turns to me and it seems as if all the scarce moonlight here in the Seam is shining on him because I could see the wry grin on his face perfectly.

"I'm not a chicken," I stutter.

"Yeah you are. Anyway, did you bring any small items you don't need? The Hob actually has some cool stuff you can't find at your town's convenient shop."

Ugh! I knew I was missing something before I left.

My silence and weak moan is understood by Aiden.

"Oh, maybe next time then."

I swivel my head to the side so I could get a good look of him. I have to gaze upwards just so I could only see his profile. "Wait, you think I'm going to come here again?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, you can't just ask for help and never talk to us after that. That's like… using people." His eyes meet mine, then his eyebrows knit. "Wow. That's what you were planning to do, wasn't it."

"What? So you're basically asking me to become friends with you Seam people? Why would I do that? I'm not desperate, I have friends."

He grimaces. "Hm, I guess I was wrong about you." His stare is bitter yet thoughtful and it causes stinging bile to crawl its way up my throat. I swallow it down with a frown.

Wrong about what?

Suddenly, I don't want to go to this Hob anymore. Or get help from Aiden. I spin on my heel and storm back to where I should be at despite the ominous dark. Tucked away in my warm blankets and safety. I wasn't actually going to go there _anyway_… right? Yeah—right!

"Wait! Ethelyn, wait!"

I feel so stupid for even having the audacity to ask for Aiden's help. For saying those things to him. So, _so_ stupid.

My pace quickens when I hear his speedy footsteps develop into a run. Soon I'm wildly gasping for breath and abruptly crouch down to the soot pavement and bury my face into my hands. Don't look at me. Don't look at me.

It's hard to try to blink back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes even though they're pressed into my palms. When Aiden's footsteps stop, I sink my face deeper into the makeshift protection of my hands.

"Go away," My voiced is muffled. "I don't need your help. Just go back home now."

He doesn't leave though.

"_Please_," I could hear the crack in my speech. Oh joy, here come the waterworks.

"Ethelyn… I uh, I'm sorry if I sounded rude when I told you that but uhm… nevermind. I guess I should get going now."

"Wait," I take one of my hands from my face and place it over his, my eyes nervously meeting his gaze. I should be embarrassed about the fact that some sob snot is still lingering on my fingers but I don't care at the moment. I think apologizing is much more important. "_I'm _sorry."

He bites his chapped lips. "Thanks, but, I should get home anyway."

"So you don't want to help me anymore?" I snuffle and wipe at my nose with the sleeve of my sweater after taking my hand back.

"It's not that… it's just… Yeah I still want to help you but…" He looks fidgety and uncomfortable.

I quickly stand up. "Wait. I really didn't mean what I said earlier. I could get really defensive easily," I meekly say.

He eyes me, unconvinced.

"I, I mean…" I hastily interject. "You're a really nice guy and all so—" I take a look around the dark streets of the Seam regardless of the fact that no people are here to observe us "—friends maybe?"

After a little while, Aiden's eyes narrow as he slowly replies, "I'll think about it."

I'll be taking that as a yes. I ask hopefully, "So are you still up for the _Hob_?"

He nods, smirking. "You mean the black market?"

I can't contain my giggle. "Yeah… that."

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><p><strong>Eeek! It was so short -,-<br>But the next chapter will be longer! Yay c;**

**I hope you all enjoiiedd this chapter**

**Until next time xoxoxox ^_~**

**-UnintendedPaperCut [: **


	9. Porcelain Doll

**A/N  
>Hey guys! I owe you all a super duper fat apology for not updating in a long time! I'll make it up to you, I promisssee c:<br>Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy. Hopefully I'll have another chappy up on Sunday... Sound like a plan? Okay, okay c: You can read now:D**

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><p>My mother has a polished and lovely porcelain doll on the mantle above the fireplace to show off whenever we have guests over. It's rare, she tells me, and it has also been passed down to the eldest daughter of each generation of her family for years. She reminds me that it was made during the North American days, maybe even before that. But it's beautiful, and quite interesting to observe. I remember that when I was younger, I would play with it and Mom would scream at me because of how fragile it is and that I'll dirty it up with greasy fingerprints. So now, I only gaze at it and make up stories about this mysterious doll that ended up with me mother's family in my head.<p>

A sheeny curtain of ebony rests pasts the broad shoulders of the porcelain doll. Small dark eyes slightly slanted at their corners, plump lips whose rich color reminds me of a cardinal bird and high cheekbones embellishing the pale and glowing rose petals on its peach jowls. Its long robe-dress is lavished in folds, hiding the few cherry blossoms and slim brown branches glossed over the salmon toned silk.

The whole appearance of the porcelain doll is absolutely remarkable; I don't know anyone who has one like it. I've never seen nor met anyone who looks like it, not even a Capitol person. The only familiar feature this doll models is its hair—Seam hair, straight and black. Not even merchant skin like mine is that pale, pink or healthy. Eyes that narrow I never even knew existed. Nevertheless, it's exotic, and whenever Mom tells me that it'll be mine one day, I can't help but be satisfied at the thought.

I continue to stare at the delicate figurine. Today she seems like an Esther, with tons of friends and an older sister who plays dress up with her. All the boys at her school adore her and every single day she has friends over at her house. They hang out in the cool shade of her backyard, scratchy grass tickling their bare feet while they nibble on pears from her pear tree and raspberries from the bushy thickets abundantly dotted with berries from her side yard.

What I've noticed whenever I make up stories for this porcelain doll is that there is no such thing as the Hunger Games or the Capitol or any Districts. She lives in a perfect world where there is no such thing as money or coveting or killing and you could play at the beach all day instead of attending school.

Another strange thing is that I've never been to the beach, let alone see the ocean. Only District Four and the Capitol, I think, have a sea to enjoy and visit. So it's hard for me to imagine the ocean, all that comes to mind is the pitiful pond in the town's park. But even though I can't picture much, I still visualize vibrant blue water shimmering with the sun's reflection. District Four is truly lucky.

I sigh and rise from the carpet when Mom calls me to help set up the table.

"What's for dinner?" I ask as I arrange the napkins beside the plates.

Mom glances at me distractedly before setting the glasses onto our homemade placemats, leaving Zion's empty. "Just some of that old bread and potato and leek stew." She clears her throat and turns to go back to the stove.

Stew.

When I went to the Hob yesterday, Aiden introduced me to a middle-aged woman called Greasy Sae. She chuckled at my expression when I heard the "greasy" part and told me to hush and try her freshly made stew. I was hesitant at first, but Aiden convinced me that it was to die for. And it honestly was.

I have to go back to the Hob tonight to finish filling out the papers for Zion because last night it was getting a bit _too_ dark for my taste, not that it already wasn't. And the Hob really does have some nice things, so I'm making a note to not forget to bring some knickknacks along with me.

I also felt very welcomed there. Everyone was really kind and not unwilling to start a conversation when Aiden introduced me to them. I actually can't wait to go back.

Soon enough, we're all sitting at the table quietly eating our food.

Dad tears at his chunk of bread and dips it into his bowl. The soggy product is a few of the only things that actually makes the stale bread edible.

"How was school?" He asks after a couple of furious chomps.

"Oh, uhm," I fumble with my spoon, almost forgetting that dinnertime is when we talk about our day and that lately we haven't been keeping up with that ritual. "Well," I chew at the inside of my cheek. "Troy and I started on our English project."

"Hmm," Dad nods. Then his eyes are on his piece of dry sourdough the next second.

Mom peeks at Dad then she looks at me. "What do you two have planned?"

"We're working on a picture book version for _Jack and the Beanstalk_," I watch my parents vacantly stare into their bowls and poke at its contents. "It was his idea. Brilliant, huh?" I chirp brightly.

"Yeah," Dad says after a long pause of uncomfortable silence. "Show it to me when it's completed."

"Of course,"

Eventually, we're all done with our meal and I tell my parents to go to bed and that I'll be cleaning everything up.

Mom takes a glimpse of me as I watch Dad say a curt thanks and head up the stairs.

"Oh, come here honey," She reaches her arms out and I don't pause to bury myself into them. She starts to stroke the few strands of hair that have escaped my ponytail while she murmurs, "Ethie, your father isn't doing that well right now. He's under a lot of stress, with Zion not home and the apothecary shop losing money." I take in a short breath as she says this and she briefly stops her talking, probably realizing what she has just said. "Anyway dear, just remember that he loves you and that you must forgive his actions. We really appreciate every little thing you've been helping us out with." She pulls back, her arms still encircling me, a weak smile on her face. After placing a kiss on my forehead, she asks, "Now are you sure that you don't need any help?"

I squint at the pallid purple arcs wrinkling beneath her eyes.

"No—" I shake my head. "—please get some sleep, Mom."

"Alright, but when you're done, don't forget to take your bath. I'll leave some water for you when I'm finished." She helps me clear the table before leaving the room.

As much as I hate washing dishes, I bear with it because I have to get my parents into bed so that I could assist to Zion and his cuts. I grit my teeth as I plunge my hands into the soapy water and vigorously scrub at the bowls with a rag.

Finally, just finally, I'm done and I rush over to the bathroom to wash up.

I remorsefully stare at the steamy tub of water my mother has left for me. I could see the small and gleaming bubbles floating on the surface which could only be the essentials oils she took the time out to pour in for me. It's extremely hard to resist, but I don't have time to bathe right now. Maybe I should just leave it and then—no, it would be cold and too late by then.

I feel sick to the stomach when I unwillingly unplug the stopper and watch the hot water get swallowed and sucked up by the metallic hole below the faucet. I'm so wasteful! I really regret doing this.

After changing into a snug outfit and grabbing a bracelet to trade with, I button myself into a coat and cautiously press my ear against my parents' bedroom door.

They're out. Cold.

And I still can't help but feel guilty that I'm selfishly taking advantage of their exhaustion not only for my first time, but second. But I'm doing this for Zion… So it should all balance out. Somehow.

I tiptoe down the stairs and before I know it, Aiden's meeting me at the backdoor.

"Hi," I whisper when we start to stealthily walk down the street.

"Hey," He softly kicks a rock away from the pavement with his shoe. "Brought anything cool to trade with?"

I gently tug the bracelet I snatched from earlier from my wrist and hand it to him. "Yeah," I sheepishly watch as he studies the shiny wooden beads. "Just an old bracelet."

"_Just?_ No, this is real nice," He tosses it back to me. But I don't catch it in time. My hands are still face up in front of me when the bracelet crashes to the ground.

I compress a shriek as I bend down and frown at the broken cord surrounded in a small pool of pretend wooden pearls glinting in the moonlight.

"Oh shoot! Ethelyn, I'm so sorry!" Aiden kneels down beside me and helps me gather up the string and rolling off beads.

"No, it's fine. I'm not good with… catching I guess," I force a giggle while I scoop up the last of the broken jewelry. Aiden pours his findings into my hands.

"Well you shouldn't put those beads to waste; people will trade a lump sum for some like those." He says when we resume our walk.

"I'll keep that in mind. I have a lot of homeless buttons lying around my house," I shake the beads in my closed fist, listening to the muted clicks.

"Yep,"

Soon, I could see the dim glow of candlelight streaming out of a window draped in coal dust from the Hob and the faint sound of chatter. My grin is involuntary.

Aiden opens the door for me and waits for me to go in. He's right behind my heels when I do step in.

"Well good evening," An elderly man greets from his vendor of… I don't know really.

I smile and don't hesitate to go over to the cardboard box in front of him. "Would you mind if I took a peep?" I ask after receiving a slight nod from Aiden.

The old man chuckles and removes the lid punctured with holes from the top. "Go for it, darling,"

I find kittens! Four small ones with green eyes and small pink noses. One has a sleek coat of orange, another with white streaks patterned over gray fur and the last two are black with curled whiskers.

"They're so pretty!" I gush.

"Thought so," He gives me a toothy grin. "Which one you like the best?"

I glance back down at the napping balls of sweetness. "They are all too delightful to prefer an individual one." I look back up at him. "How much is one?"

He only stretches his smile and shakily pats my head. "Maybe next time, hon. It'll be a gift then." I don't know if I imagined the slight flicker in his eyes when he looked over at Aiden.

Confused, I say a polite thank you and stride back to Aiden, who has a smirk on his face.

"What?" I ask self-consciously.

"Nothing." He answers immediately while shaking his head to himself.

I narrow my eyes. "Don't lie to me Aiden."

"I'm serious, just nothing," He turns and starts to walk deeper into the Hob.

I have to run a few steps to catch up to him. "Where are we going now?"

Aiden rotates his head toward me, maybe just so he knows that I could see his eyes roll. "Don't remember why you're here?"

"Oh," I mutter, stupidly. "Yeah."

A luscious aroma dances its way into my nose and I'm not surprised when I see Greasy Sae spot us and wave us over with a weary smile, scratching at a brittle tendril of hair beneath her cap.

"Well hello you two. Have you both come here for another bowl of my famous stew?" She stirs her wooden ladle in her pot. "I traded quite a few number of green yarn balls for a jumbo jar of clams. You're both in for a treat tonight, clam chowder, on the house."

Even though I'm truly pleased to hear this, Aiden's elatedness is much more palpable than mine. His face is now glowing with bliss, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Oddly, a quick image of Danika, Troy's younger sister, accepting an old rag doll from me, and seeing how happy she was, comes to mind.

We never really have clam chowder at District Twelve; seafood is uncommon to come across here, so this is a true delicacy. Another benefit for Four.

I savor each luscious spoonful of creamy potage. The clam chunks are undeniably scrumptious and the buttery bits of carrots and celery and onion are delicious. I don't feel all too ashamed when I let out a small and content burp when I'm finished. Greasy Sae laughs when she takes Aiden's licked clean bowl.

"That was delicious, are you sure you don't want us to pay?" He asks.

"Positive. Now get from my stall before I change my mind,"

We're at a different stand the next second.

After a while, Aiden and a few people who practically live at the Hob are finished with helping me fill out the paperwork for Zion's sponsor gift. I offer them a pathetic thank you with my beads which they graciously accept with caring smiles.

Aiden is walking me back home after that.

"Thank you," I say all of a sudden when we're nearing the apothecary shop.

"For what?"

I twiddle my thumbs. "For everything."

He cocks an eyebrow but just says, "'Twas my pleasure."

I scoff and soon we are at the backdoor of my family's shop. I squint at the porch's light bulb shining below the awning.

"I thought I turned that off," My stomach tightly twists itself into a knot and I quietly hiss to Aiden, "Go!"

He says a quick bye and is off right after I say that.

I take a few shaky breaths and wipe my palms that are now slippery with sweat onto my coat before opening the door.

My mom's red and puffy eyes find mine that instant.

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><p><strong>I'm not really happy with this. Hmmm. But do feel free to leave any thoughts or suggestions! More to come my loves c:<br>Your feedback really motivates me and brings a smile to my face.:D **

**Until Next time  
><strong>**-UnintendedPaperCut xoxoxox**


	10. Partners

I brace myself, waiting for the blow and the raw sting that should follow. My shoulders shrug up involuntarily and my head ducks as I gently close the door behind me with a nudge of my foot. Eyes sealed, I listen to her footfalls that start toward me, fast, unsteady. I could just see her raising her arm, palm facing me with a taunting sneer, fingers flexed like a stiff board, ready to bring that tear soaked hand down onto my face.

Mom never hits me. Ever. I've only been hit twice, but by my dad. Once, when I stole a bottle of sparkly nail lacquer from Jillian Undersee, the twin sister of Boris Undersee and the daughter of the mayor when we were eight. I took it because she always got everything, still does if it's affordable, and I never heard of colored nails. When she came to school with it, saying that Trinity Flair herself gave it to her, I couldn't resist when she left it all alone in her cubby. Dad spanked me when he saw my pink nails and red face when I had no explanation after he had questioned me, made me return it. Jillian forgave me, but still, after six years, I remain to feel shamefaced, like I owe her. The other time was when I pranked Zion. So this must be my third time, but from my _mother_.

I hold my breath, practically feeling the frustrated heat rolling off of her. And I could sense the tension coming from her hand, slicing through the small space she creates with one last step.

"I'm sorry," My voice comes out as a squeak, and I know that I shouldn't have said that. But it'll probably be the last thing I'll be able to say for a week without a damaged cheek and mouth smushing my speech.

But then Mom's arms drape around me with brisk urgency and she pulls me in closer to her. I almost trip by the sudden movement.

"Mom?" A raspy whisper leaves my trembling lips.

"Shhh," Mom sounds likes she's on the verge to cry. I realize how violently she's shuddering, and I could feel her chest tighten as she tries to contain her sobs.

My hands smooth up her back and I give her a slight pat, stunned and confused.

She erupts with a hideous mixture of a shriek and a snivel. Her grip encircling me tightens. "Shh," She says again.

What's going on? Why is she crying? Does she think that something happened to me? Where's Dad? How did she wake up? She's so tired… how did she wake up?

I blink, try to steady my racing heart beats. What would make Mom wake up like this from a sleep she's been pining to experience since the beginning of this week? She couldn't have just got up to check one me, could she have? No. What about Dad? No. What, what, what, what, what.

Wait. There's only one explanation. Zion.

Someone must've called. Someone must've called about Zion.

I let out a croaky wail. My shoulders slump from their tensed position. It feels like a few sacks of flour have been dropped onto my chest. Breathing is suddenly hard, the walls of my throat become scratchy and sore. Tears now trickling down my face don't get wiped away.

_Zion_.

Mom suddenly stiffens and she pushes me out in front of her, fingers digging into my shoulder blades. Her brow's furrowed and her eyes are scrunched, mouth stretched into a snarly line.

"Where have you been?"

"I, I,"

"You _what_?" She seethes.

I tremble from underneath her grasp; I've never seen her so _angry_ before. But I can't tell her that I've been to the Hob, let alone the Seam, especially at nighttime… _with _a Seam guy.

"I—"

"Ethelyn!" She barks, her voice cracking. "Answer me!"

Tears are pouring down both of our faces now.

"I-I—" My eyes quickly leave her distraught gaze and they land on every object in the apothecary that I can see. Everything but her eyes. I lift my head back up. "I… heard something outside and, and I—"

"Don't—" She interjects. "—don't you _ever_, ever do that _ever_ again. Do you understand me, Ethelyn?" I don't even have time to say yes when she yells, "Do you?"

"Yes Mom!" I yelp, startled. "I do, I do, I do. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!"

She heaves and is about to say something when the backdoor behind me swings open and a deep voice booms, "Dammit Enid, I can't find the damn girl!" The sound of heavy things sliding off of tables and crashing to the floor fills the apothecary. "What is, what if… Oh God, just where the hell could she have gone? Enid I—" The yelling stops.

Mom lets go of my shoulders and steps back.

Dad slowly steps into my dark plain of vision. Anger, tears, red, creases, they're all over his face. Then he slaps me, square on the cheek.

I don't even really have the time to think of what just happened, or how horrible the throbbing in my face feels. My mind is swimming and my once silent sobs are now loud and full with hiccups.

"Nathaniel!" Mom gasps.

Dad spins around to her. "Shut up Enid, just shut up!" He turns back to me, spitting, "What in the hell is _this_, Ethelyn? Where have you been?"

I open my mouth though nothing comes out. Only a choked sound.

Dad's menacing expression deepens, his hand rises again. "Don't just look at me like that, you hopeless little sh—"

"Nathaniel!" Mom shouts. She clutches Dad's arm and tried to jerk him away from me. "She hasn't done anything! Leave her alone!"

"No," Dad growls, yanking himself free from Mom's weak grip. "She's done plenty. She—"

"_She_ heard something outside! She didn't mean to scare us like that," Mom grabs my hand. "C'mon Ethelyn, let's get you back in bed." Her voice is no longer high, it's low and drained.

I'm still shuddering, tears streaming down my face after Mom has cleaned me up and has me tucked into bed. She strokes my hair and clucks sympathetically.

"It's all stress. We were terribly worried,"

My head shakes on its own accord. "Dad would've never had done that."

Lips pursed, Mom just gets up, leans down, kisses my swelling cheek. "Get some sleep sweetheart."

My fingers wrap around her slim wrist like a vice before she can leave. "Dad would've never have done that." I repeat.

"Ethelyn." She wriggles her wrist round which only makes me tighten my clasp. "Ethelyn!" She snaps.

"No, tell me,"

Her eyes meet mine. "Ethelyn, let go of me. Now."

"No,"

After a few minutes of squirming wrists and fingers and venomous glares, Mom finally says, "Okay, okay."

I remove my hand from her red a sore ones, smiling pleasantly. "Thank you."

She sighs and lowers herself back onto my bed. Her mouth opens, but then she closes it again. "Oh I don't know honey… I don't think you're old enough."

A number of creases find their way onto my forehead. "What? What do you mean?"

"Ethelyn, I—" She pauses. "—No, maybe some other time. Today is not the day. Get your rest."

"Wait!"

Mom suppresses a frown. "Yes dear?"

"So nothing happened to Zion?" I ask slowly.

"What? No, oh dear God no. Oh Ethelyn what made you—" Mom squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head.

I smile again, but this time it's a true one. "Then if it's not that, why don't you tell me?"

"No, not today, not today." One last brush of my hair and she's gone before I could stop her. I let out an irritated snarl. Oh I was so close!

* * *

><p>"Well look at you Chadwick. They may not be as bad as that one time you pulled that sick trick on your brother, but bruises are bruises," Suzette notes jovially when Peyton and I pass her in the hall.<p>

Shooting me a curious cock of an eyebrow, Peyton turns to Suzette with a grimace. "You're bleeding."

Suzette just scowls, then presses her lips into a firm smile. "I know that. And it's your friend's fault." She nudges her chin toward me.

Peyton crosses her arms. "Oh really now? Please tell me, how so?"

"I needed some rash cream, but it was _much_ too expensive," Suzette says this like we're discussing what she would wear for the upcoming school dance. Then her voice lowers into a hiss. "Ethelyn here didn't have the consideration to ease the price, at all. So now I'm scratching my rash like crazy and they're turning into bleeding scabs." Suzette seethes, glowering at me the whole time.

"You can't blame her for that,"

"Yes I can and I just _did_,"

Peyton huffs and takes my hand. "Suzette, I can't believe we were once friends. You're so _rude_!"

Suzette pouts playfully. "Oh well that's too bad, isn't it?" She turns to close her locker. "Good by now," She calls out after we start walking away.

"Ignore her," Peyton says. "She's so _annoying_." She lets go of my hand to link our arms together instead. "Anyway, what's the 411 on Troy?"

"Oh, none,"

She gasps good-naturedly. "_None?_ C'mon Ethie! You've got to be kidding."

Peyton chatters on about how her little brother got some mosquito bites and that she'll bring him over after school while we walk to Panem History.

"And they're so big and clearish and white!" She exclaims. "You have to fix him up—pronto!" She giggles and then we stumble into someone.

"Oh, sorry!" Peyton squeals, bending down to gather our fallen books. I follow suit.

"Nah nah, I'm sorry."

The voice is all too familiar, and I wince when a third pair of hands helps pick up our books. Tan and rough but warm and soft when the knuckles brush mine.

My eyes lift from the books we're scrambling to pick up and lock with two bright grays eyes enclosed in long dark lashes.

I stare for a while until Aiden breathes, "Hey," Then his browns knit and his eyes flicker down to my cheek.

Peyton helps me up and noisily clears her throat when she sees who it is we bumped into.

"Come on Ethelyn, let's go; we're going to be late." She pulls the books closer to her chest and drags me along.

I only give Aiden a brief nod before turning back. He looks dazed, a hand knotted into his hair. Did he notice my bruise? Does he think it's his fault?

Panem History crawls by agonizingly slow, boring and monotonous as always. Math is the same. Finally, it's Gym and Maysilee and Sharon are enthusing about how the coaches are planning to dedicate this month to household Ed.

"And we're going to raise egg babies and have a husband," Maysilee peeps excitedly.

Sharon sighs. "Oh I hope that I get Jesse."

"Well then don't be a sissy and _ask_ him," Maysilee suggests.

"I would…" Sharon says sarcastically. "But we can't just choose them. They're making everyone pull names from a bowl."

"Like the reaping," We say all at once.

She squints. "Yeah… sort of."

Soon, Coach Holbrook and a tall lady with a shiny blonde ponytail have our whole class seated on the rickety wooden benches on the blacktop. My nails sink into the green moss eating up and nestled into the cracks of the boards.

"As most of you may already know," Coach Holbrook starts. "For this PE unit, we're doing household Ed. You will be assigned a partner of the opposite gender and together you'll raise an egg that will represent a baby. You both will also be given daily scenarios to work out and learn to cook a few meals, make clothing, soap and things like that." He turns to the unfamiliar lady to his side. "And this is Ms. Scott and she'll be helping you all with this."

The three of us all glance at each other with small grins.

"Now, to pick a partner, I'll hand you this bowl—" He shakes the bowl he's holding in the air. "—and you'll get a slip. The name on that piece of paper you pick will be your husband/wife." After a few murmurs stirring from the class, he declares, "And _no_ trading." Groans.

The coach tosses the contents in his bowl then walks over to a Seam girl with ruddy cheeks. She sticks her hand in and when she folds open her paper, the smile on her face fades and she says glumly, "Troy Mellark."

Both Sharon and Maysilee eye me. I pretend to not notice it. But I see Suzette narrow her eyes and send a nasty glare to the girl who drew Troy's name.

Hazelle Thompson's next, and she says with a concealed smile, "Bryce Hawthorne."

A lot of the other students begin to disappear with their "choosers" and their eggs, a grin or a frown on their face.

Coach Holbrook shakes the bowl in my face after Maysilee fishes out Ethan Richards, a Seam kid, from the bowl.

I reach in, splaying my fingers onto the cool bottom and the few slips of paper left. I settle on a loosely folded one and pull it out, unwrap it.

_Aiden Everdeen_.

"Well?" The PE teacher speaks after a little while.

I look up from the names. "Oh—yeah," I quickly say, flustered. "Aiden Everdeen."

He gives me a weary smile.

* * *

><p><strong>S: I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a while... I have finals that I've beenam studying for. And well... I have a lot of studying to do, Lol. And plus this week has NOT been my week. At all.  
>anywho, I promise that these long gaps of not updating won't happen anymore:D I owe it to all of you lovelies. Sound like a deal? c: Alright then!<strong>

**'Till Next time**

**-UnintendedPaperCut xoxoxox !**


	11. Secrets

**A/N  
>Hwello my lovelies. This week has been a long and excruticating week full of finals and cramming for the upcoming final tests and project next week. _. Anywho, this is a warning: this chapter is really just a filler, so I pinky swear that Chapter Twelve will be full of Aiden and a small scoop on Zion. Long and long and long. I'm so estatic that you all have been bearing with me and I really hope you have been enjoying this story! Okay, now I'll leave you all alone and you can read... it's not that good, but I needed to get something out so-ENJOI~ :D<strong>

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><p>Iliana whines the whole time we walk to her and Maysilee's house after school.<p>

"Then Nerissa pulled out Benedict's name! _And_ she smirked at me _and_ wouldn't stop laughing at everything he said _and_ kept, like, touching his shoulders!" She barks.

Maysilee makes a face. "It's no surprise that she's Suzette's best friend."

Iliana glances at her sister as we continue our walk. "But, the thing is, he was _letting_ her! I was all like '_hello?_ I'm right here!' What kind of boyfriend does that!"

Shrugging, Maysilee nudges me with her elbow, her sympathetic face now brightening. "But _you_ seemed to have been enjoying the company of that one guy." She wiggles her eyebrows, like always. But this catches me off guard; we're not talking about Troy…

"Huh?" My face flushes because of Iliana's narrowed eyes.

"_What_ guy?" She presses, her tone not in its usual coolly attitude.

I'm about to say no one when Maysilee says, "Oh, you know Aiden Everdeen? The one that hunts in the _woods_ with Bryce Hawthorne and hangs out with Haymitch Abernathy? _He's_ her partner."

"You say that like it's a good thing," Iliana rebukes.

"But haven't you seen him before? With those dark curls and muscles, why wouldn't I say that like it's a good thing?"

Iliana stops twirling the end of her long and thick French braid. "Maysilee, he's from the Seam."

Maysilee just shrugs her shoulders casually. Her demeanor basically says, "No biggie."

Iliana switches her attention to me. "So, how's Troy? You haven't talked about him much ever since that kiss."

"_Kiss_! What kiss? Why didn't anyone tell me about a kiss?" Maysilee shrieks, almost accusingly.

"Oops, we forgot to tell you," Iliana says as she opens the door of her family's sweet shop.

Mrs. Donner gives us all a warm smile after we walk in. "Came over to do homework?" She asks kindly, looking at me.

"No, she came for those new chocolate bars that got delivered here the other day. The dark chocolate ones with almonds in them," Maysilee jokes, though she has a serious gleam in her smile.

Her mother seems sincerely apologetic when she says, "Oh, I'm sorry. But when you were all hanging out here earlier this week, we practically ran out of stock."

"But Mo-om," Maysilee moans. "We only had a few taffies."

"And a lot of strawberry wafers along with those caramels and butterscotch lollipops." Her mother adds.

"Ugh! Fine!" Maysilee growls as she pounds up the stairs.

Iliana grabs my bag and tosses it onto her desk chair when we reach the room she and Maysilee share.

"It's a good thing that my egg baby isn't in there," I say with a giggle.

She yawns as she flops onto her side of the bed. "Oh yeah, the _husbands_ had to take them home today." Shut cuts her sly eyes at Maysilee when she says this bitterly.

Maysilee squares up her shoulders then turns to me. "Do you want to help me feed Mitzie?"

I nod. "Of course."

She drags me into the living room with a strange expression on her face. She doesn't start speaking until her soft yellow canary is nibbling seeds from my palm.

"Ethelyn, I have a secret."

"What is it?" I ask eagerly, still petting the delicate feathers of Mitzie.

"You have to promise to not tell anyone… I haven't even told Iliana. I don't plan to either." She says, extremely hurried and quiet.

My head swivels to the side, and I squint at her. "You're going to tell me a secret you haven't even told _lliana_?"

She stomps in frustration and takes the bird from my hand, placing it back into its cage. "Do you promise or not?"

I shake the remaining seeds stuck in between the cracks of my fingers into the cage and shut the door. "I don't know…"

"Tell me why. Tell me why you don't want to promise." She demands. Her eyes have never looked so stern and challenging. I try not to cringe from under her gaze.

"Because, well, you haven't even told your own sister."

She rolls her eyes, but the intense and solemn film glazing her pupils doesn't leave. "Ethelyn, she wouldn't understand… and I know you would."

"What makes you think that?" I ask slowly, interested.

Her feet shuffle, then she bows her head a little, leaving a small gap in between us. She takes a quick look around the living room. "Because," she whispers so quietly I can barely hear her. "I saw you—I saw you the other day with Aiden Everdeen… in the Seam."

I stumble back, surprised and tripping on the carpet beneath my feet. What? Maysilee _saw_ me with Aiden? When? If she saw me, then other people could've… Oh dear, oh please no.

After sucking in a few breaths, I unsteadily question, "Did you tell my parents?"

Maysilee's face scrunches and she shakes her head. "What? No. Why would I do that?" She spits, offended.

A blood blush creeps onto my face. "Maysilee… when did you see me there anyway?"

I half expect her to redden, but instead, she dips her head and murmurs, "You know Hazelle Thompson?"

I crane my neck so that I have a better view of Maysilee's cautious appearance. "Yeah, the one who's your English project partner?"

She nods. "Well… I went to her house the other day. That's when I—I mean _we_—saw you."

"We?" I softly repeat.

"Yeah. Hazelle and me."

My mouth is about to open, ready to say something when Iliana saunters in.

"What's taking you two so long? I need help with my math homework."

"Oh sorry! Mitzie was being a little… uncooperative." Maysilee shoots me a strange look then pokes at her canary through the white metal wires of its cage. "Right Mitzie? You bad bird." She teases.

Iliana shakes her head to herself. "That bird is so stupid. When will you get rid of it?" She turns around and starts to head back into her room. "Hurry up and please help me!"

Maysilee lets out a drained sigh after we know that her sister left for sure. "Hazelle invited me to eat lunch with her tomorrow at school with her and her friends."

I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear, because I don't know what else to do.

She gazes at me awkwardly. "Do you want to come with me?"

This time I smile a small smile. "I'm not sure Maysilee."

Her arms cross and her eyes stare over my shoulder, distantly looking out the window behind me. "Just promise you won't tell anyone."

But she still hasn't told me her secret… has she?

* * *

><p><strong>'Till next time!<br>-UnintendedPaperCut xox**


	12. Weird

**Hey guys! I can't even explain how sorry I am. I honestly don't have an excuse for my absences, but for now, I'm going to blame it on Glee [heartbroken], Bunheads [lalalaveee], the Matched Trilogy [omigoshlove] and tanning ;D  
>Well I hope you enjoiii this chapter, I'm not really happy with it, BUT I ABASOLUTELTY PROMISE that the next chapter will be longer, better, and have alottttt of Aiden in it c:<br>Iloveyouallsoooomuch**

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><p>The<em> sudden and earsplitting ring that sputters out the speakers throughout the school speakers stirs jumps and shrieks and moans from my gym class.<em>

_Our egg baby Aiden was juggling crashes to the ground. The light brown shell cracks, its jagged cleavage allowing a cloudy yellow stream to dribble out and onto the schoolyard's blacktop. _

_He doesn't offer a sorry, which is fine, because the coalmine's bell has just turned off and his family is most likely in danger!_

_Aiden hastily pats me on the shoulder with an apologetic expression masking his startled face, then turns away and squeezes his way into the swarm of bobbing heads bouncing with dark hair._

"_Class! Class! No need to panic! Stay still and line up!"_

_Coach Holbrook's frantic orders are ignored. Every kid from the Seam is running off of the school grounds, screaming and crying, pushing people out of their way._

_I swivel my head around, trying to find a familiar face in this crowd. But it's all too hard. I blink, but my head's fuzzy, and my ears are resonating just as crazily as the warning bells still ringing senseless. _

"_Ethelyn! Ethelyn!"_

_A pair of hands grabs my arm and I gasp at the unexpected grip._

"_Look at me, look at me."_

_I stare up at the face of the owner's voice and hands. She's tall, with her shiny blonde hair lying on the shoulders of her itchy gray sweater that rubs on my wrist._

_Who is she?_

_My frown causes her lips to form a forced smile. "I'm Ms. Scott, remember? I'm helping your class raise your egg babies."_

_I just wince. _

_She sighs. "Oh, it'll come back to you. But you need to hurry and go home—you'll be having a lot of patients tonight."_

_How does she know my family even runs an apothecary shop?_

_I wince again, but then shrug and run off. But not toward home, toward the Seam's coal mines. I'm lucky because I don't really know the way; the lingering students still rushing there are my guidance. _

_I'm gasping wildly when I arrive there. My legs are bent and I hang my head after I halt to a stop, my hands clutching at my knees, almost to the point of bruising._

_Why am I so tired?_

_A scream reverberates in my ear. The scream is so loud and shrilling that it pasts the dawdling buzz bouncing against my eardrums. I look up and see Maysilee, who is being pulled back from the throng of wailing people standing at the roped off area of the entrance of the mines._

_Maysilee's pointing as the yells continue to fall from her mouth._

_What does she see?_

_I struggle to push pass the crowd to get a view, but Maysilee's screeches only turn louder and louder when she sees me. Her head shakes and the sounds she makes transform into "No's"._

_The people I'm weakly pushing aside start to shove me back, but I continue to storm through. _

"_Move. Move please." I plead._

_The old man who was selling kittens at the Hob the other night shouts at me. "No! No!"_

_I feel horrible when I shove him with both of my hands, palms flat and strong on his frail chest, and watch him tumble to the ground. But how can I see what they're hiding from me?_

_I look past the rough and scratchy rope my fingers find._

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

_I start to swing my head, side to side, when my eyes land on the scene._

_I see Zion. And he's lying on the ashen ground. His left arm is wrung like a dish towel, and the skin there is a pale blue. His head is twisted at an awkward position, his jaw crushed and purple. I turn away, because I don't want to look at his other body parts strewn plenty of feet away from him._

_Because my brother is dead. _

_The people who I now realize were trying to help me earlier, the ones telling me no and pushing me back, start to curse at me, cluck disapprovingly and shove me away._

"_Little ungrateful wretch."_

"_Spoiled merchant brat."_

"_Damn girl thinks she can have everything her way."_

_Their words _**hurt**_, they sting worse than getting hit. They burn like a boiling pot of water still on the stove. They hurt. They hurt._

_One man even hacks into his elbow, then spits on me._

_Like trash._

I don't talk during breakfast. The nightmare I had last night completely frightened me. It was so vivid, so tangible, _so real_.

My body quivers from an unnecessary flinch when Mom reaches over the table and lightly touches my shoulder.

"Honey, you don't look so well."

I glumly stare down at my bowl of wheaty oat mush. "I'm fine… just had a bad dream."

Mom lets out a soft chuckle. "Try to think of something else. And speed it honey or you'll be late for school."

"Yes Mom." I swallow a few more spoonfuls of my oatmeal before getting up from the table and taking my parent's dishes. "I'll just go clean this up before I go."

Mom nods happily. Dad just grunts.

It's not long until Iliana's shout streams into the kitchen window from the apothecary's front door.

"Coming!" I call past the wispy lilac curtains.

I quickly dry my hands on my skirt, give my parents a light peck on their cheeks and hurry down the stairs after grabbing my bag. My breathing's erratic when I meet Iliana at the front steps of my family's shop.

Her eyes take in my ruddy cheeks, then my disheveled hairdo. "What's the rush?"

My shoulders bob up and down. "Wheres Maysilee?

Iliana breathes deeply out of her nostrils, I swear I almost hear a whistle. "She's still at the house… says Mitzie isn't feeling that great." She links her arm with mine as we start to walk toward school. "I never liked that old bird… I wish we had gotten a little kitten or puppy or _something else_ instead."

"Well, at least Maysilee didn't choose to have a snake as a pet."

"Yeah!" Iliana's giggle is surprisingly sincere. "Or a snail."

My nose scrunches up. "Yeah, that too."

Soon enough, Iliana and I are saying bye and are heading to our morning classes. Mine is English and the first thing I notice when the bell rings is that Maysilee's seat is empty. So is Hazelle Thompson's.

That's strange.

"Alright everyone," Ms. Cathaway stands at the front of the classroom, patiently waiting for us all to settle down. "Tomorrow is your last day to work on your projects during class. So with that, meet up with your partners and hop to it."

Troy pulls up a chair to my desk, a grin on his face. He hands me the little picture book we've been working on.

"Yesterday I got some stuff at the stationary shop. So all we need to do is color in the pictures you drew."

I wince. "You mean you bought all of _this_?" I point at the book. It looks _real_, with the thin binding and cover with our names on it. "What's way too expensive, I owe you."

"Nah," Troy watches me thumb through the thick yet leafy pages. "It was fun."

I place it onto the desk. "Thank you Troy, but is it okay if I take it home with me? Because I better start coloring this quickly, I don't want to waste all your hard work with badly colored pictures."

"Of course you can, let's get started on it right now in fact." Troy looks around our chattery classroom. "I think Ms. Cathaway should have some crayons around here somewhere."

I weakly smile. "Oh no. Even better, she has some colored pencils in the supply closet. I'll go ask her if we can use some."

"Okay."

I get up from my seat and make my way over to Ms. Cathaway's desk. On my way there, a dry and rough hand blocks me.

I glance over at the possessor of the hand, surprised.

He looks familiar, with curly brown hair almost as dark as Aiden's and a sly smirk stretching his lips.

That smirk is even more sneakier looking than Iliana's.

"Yes?" I sound nervous, and my voice is unusually high pitched.

The moment I hear his voice and see how he chews at his thumbnails after taking his hand back to himself, I know who he is. Haymitch Abernathy?

He eyes me awkwardly, and I can't help but squirm from his scrutinizing gaze.

"Yes?" I ask again.

A satisfied and amused smile replaces his smirk and he says loudly, "Oh sorry… thought you were my partner." He swivels his head around suddenly. "You know where she is?"

"Uhm, sorry, but no."

He takes a glimpse of me, cocking an eyebrow. "Marisol? Marisol Humphrey?"

I shake my head. "No…"

He sticks a hand in the air. "About yay big… brown hair… gray eyes… typical Seam girl." He bites his lip after seeing me shake my head even more. "You don't know her?" His tone tells me that he's sincerely stunned.

"Should I?" I ask slowly.

Instead of answering my question, Haymitch narrows his eyes. "Okay. Well you can continue what you were gonna do earlier." He goes back to fiddling with his stubby pencil in the middle of his sentence.

Wincing, I take the last few steps to Ms. Cathaway's desk.

How could he mistake me for his partner? If she has brown hair? I glance back at him, but then shake my head and approach my English teacher. Her eyes meet mine from the top of the piece of classwork she is correcting.

"Can I help you sweetie?" She asks, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"Actually, yes." My fingers play with the bottom of my shirt. "Could Troy and I use the colored pencils?"

Ms. Cathaway laughs. "Dearest, every pitiful thing in that supply closet is for your use. Just make sure you put it back before class is over."

"Of course, thank you."

Soon, Sharon and I are walking to Gym class.

"Where's Maysilee?" She asks.

I shrug. "As a matter of fact, I'm not sure… If I have to be honest."

"Yeah," Sharon's face is concentrated and thoughtful. "I didn't see her at lunch… and not even Iliana said anything."

"Mhm," I echo. Earlier during lunch when I looked over at the table I usually see Hazelle and her friends, she _and _Maysilee weren't there.

"I wonder where she could be…" Sharon says before Coach Holbrook has us all meet up without partners. She says a quick good bye and heads over to her partner, Clyde Fisher.

Aiden greets me with a big smile.

My lips form a pathetic version of his grin, but it's still just as genuine.

"Why so happy?" I question as he unpacks our egg baby and its chick patterned baby blanket.

His brow knits. "You didn't watch Zion last night?"

"Huh?" I snap my head up instantly. "What happened?"

Aiden chuckles, rubbing our egg baby distractedly. "He got you sponsor gift."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

As soon as he puts the tan egg down, I hurriedly pull him into a halfhearted hug.

"Thank you Aiden—really." I step back before I could let my head sink into his chest. Trying to ignore the way he blinks his eyes, I ask, "Anyway, is he getting any better?"

"Uhm… yup. You sound like you need some catching up though." He says.

I smile, my face wrinkling. "I _do_!"

Our whole class learns how to make candles, and they smell _very_ bad. Coach Holbrook leaves the task of partners fighting over who takes them home to us.

"You can keep it." I say, handing Aiden the lumpy and lopsided stick of wax that's covered in a fingerprint and nail scratch design.

"Nah, its fine." He pushes the candle back into my hands. "Keep it."

I chew on the inside of my cheek. "No, really, my mom will throw it out anyway." He looks at me, skeptical. "She likes the short and fat ones. And loves the scented ones." My smile is sheepish, and I could feel my cheeks burning up to a rosy red, and for some reason I know it's not because of my nibbling.

"You sure?"

I nod.

"Alrighty. Thanks" He smiles and reaches for the candle, and when his fingers brush against mine, a "Troy-feeling" bubbles deeply in my abdomen. Strongly.

Weird.

* * *

><p><strong>One quick thing! I'm thinking of changing the title! I've been think of "At Sunset" (you'll see why later ;D), but I need you guys' permission for that. So let me know if you're okieedokkieee with that! And suggestions are greatly appreciated! <strong>

**Hugs And Kisses**  
><strong>-UnintendedPaperCut xox<strong>


	13. Katniss Flower

I don't walk home with Iliana later after school, I couldn't find her. Instead, I quickly sprint to her house, after thinking hard about the Aiden thing, to check on Maysilee.

My forehead is already dotted with perspiration and the back of my neck is sticky by the time I reach the back of the Donner's sweet shop.

The back doesn't reek like how it's starting to in the back of my shop; the trash collectors are beginning to slack on emptying our garbage cans. It also doesn't help that we dispose used and soiled bandages. All I see here in the Donner's bins are plastic wrappings, styrafoam blocks and lollipops sticks.

When I knock, no one answers. I wipe my forehead and rap my knuckles against the door again, calling out, "Maysilee? Iliana? Anyone home?"

I attempt the door-knocking a few times before a voice stops me.

I spin around, completely flustered and still sweating. Since when did it start getting _hot_ in February?

"Iliana?" I squint and bite at my upper lip, the little sweat there crawling into my mouth. I quickly lick it up before she notices. "Where's Maysilee? Where were you after school?"

"I'll explain in a second. Just c'mon." Iliana grabs my hand, the one that Aiden touched just a half hour ago, the one still sizzling at the index finger. She starts to drag me in the direction of my home.

"Where are we going?"

"You're house; turns out Mitzie was actually sick." Iliana says in a raspy breath. She's quiet for a long time until we're just a few steps away from the apothecary. "It's my entire fault." Her voice is shaky. "If I just didn't say anything about not wanting to have a pet bird…"

"Oh Iliana," I say. "It's not your fault." I give her hand a light squeeze before opening the shop's door.

Iliana frees our intertwined fingers and we both rush to Maysilee's side. She's hiccupping and vacantly staring at the little fluffy yellow lump on the patient's table.

"Is it dead?" Iliana asks in a small voice.

"No." Maysilee snaps, he red eyes narrowing. "_She _is still alive!"

"Oh."

I look over at Mom and Dad who are quietly chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Donner at the counter. Dad's eyes meet mine and he gives me a feeble smile.

I don't smile back.

"Maysilee?" I say, tightening my grip around the strap of my bag.

"Mhm?" She still watches the motionless however breathing canary.

"Were you here all day long?"

"Mhm…" She squints harder at Mitzie. "Will she die?"

I glance at Iliana, who turns to leave the room. "I need some fresh air."

Maysilee sighs slowly, and then looks up at me. "Please tell me she'll get better! I honestly don't know what happened. All I did was feed her some seeds right before Iliana and I were going to walk over to your house. Then…" She trails off and pouts, which causes her to snort out her nose. A tear rolls down her cheek. "Oh Ethelyn, what am I going to do?"

I'm not sure how to answer, even though I open my mouth as if I'm about to answer her question. But then, fortunately, Mrs. Donner walks over and places a hand on her shoulder.

"Honey, we should be getting home now. We've already had the shop closed all day."

Maysilee frowns at her Mom, then at me. "But…"

Mom speaks up. "Don't worry; Mitzie will receive first class attention."

Maysilee's teary eyes find their way back over to me. "Promise."

My eye flicker to Mom, then back to Maysilee. "I promise."

"She'll be good as new by the day after tomorrow." Mom says.

"Oh thank you!" Maysilee's voice is thick with emotion. About-to-cry emotion. She throws her arms around me, burying her face into my hair.

"Take good care of her." She says firmly, almost as if she doesn't want to hide the fact that it's an order, before she and her family leaves.

* * *

><p>When I finish my homework, I join Mom in the living room to watch the Games.<p>

I'm thrilled to see that my gift wasn't the only thing Zion took into possession. He now has a new coat and his ally, the District One girl, just snagged him a sledgehammer from the Cornucopia. She also got an ax for herself. He's just about to be in the final eight.

It's only been a few minutes when Dad comes up the stairs from working. His eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are scrunched. "Ethelyn." His voice is even, steady, distracted. He dabs at the sweat on his forehead. "Someone's downstairs to see you."

"Well I wonder who that could be." Mom says, patting my shoulder as I get up. "Our little popular daughter."

I roll my eyes.

Dad nods at me tersely when I head down.

I wonder who it could be as well.

I softly gasp when I see Aiden at the door of the apothecary shop. He already delivered a batch of plants the other day, so why would he be here again?

"What are you doing here!" I almost hiss, speeding over him.

The expression on his face isn't his usual cheery one I've been getting from him recently.

"I forgot to give you our egg to bring home." He gently places the egg into my hands. "Don't forget to name it—I want it to be a boy."

My laugh isn't heard from him, because he's gone before the first giggle has fallen from my mouth.

I stare down at the egg. My stomach has just started to churn from his former presence, and I almost run out the door to tell him to stay a little longer. My excuse will be for him to help me name the egg.

Almost. Because Dad steps into the shop right when I'm about to run out the door.

"You lied to me." He sounds angry, but his voice is discreet and small, like I've betrayed him.

I turn around, confused and puzzled. _Lied_ to him? Why would I _lie_ to my _father_?

"I never lied to you!"

He shakes his head, and his eyes lift from the floor and travel up to my face. "How could you tell me that you're working on a school project with Troy Mellark, but you're really working with _him_?" He emphasizes his newly made disgust for Aiden with the change of his tone and gestures at the door.

"But Dad I—"

I don't get to finish; he's already walking back up the stairs.

"They're different projects."

* * *

><p>I go to bed without dinner.<p>

Mom doesn't need to ask me why, or persuade me to have at least a little; she could already tell something was up by the look on Dad's face when I came back upstairs.

I don't fall asleep. I can't anyway. I just lie in bed, hidden in my sheets, listen to my parents watch the Games.

Listen to their hushed gasps.

Listen to their suppressed cries.

And worst of all, I listen to Mom's long moan. And I don't do anything about it.

I just lie there, feeling the cold tears stream down my face.

When I hear that Mom and Dad finally go into their bedroom, I get up from my mattress and hastily shuffle over to Zion's room.

His scent welcomes me, and that's when the first few whimpers tumble past my lips.

I never had faith in my brother. I knew he was going to die in that arena. Yet, I'm still surprised. But I can cry here. I can mourn.

* * *

><p>Zion cried a little when I visited him during the hour before he departed onto the tribute train. I visited him alone, without our parents.<p>

He told me to keep my eye on his girlfriend Arella, to make sure she didn't fool around with any guys, especially his own friends. He said this before he started bawling.

He made me promise him to take care of Mom and Dad, to beat up any guy who tried to mess with me. To always get good grades, and to make sure that the apothecary remained to bring in good money.

Zion spoke to me in a voice so soft, in a voice so focused and intense, he made it seem as if he would never come back. As if we would never see each other in the flesh again. And we both knew it when he enveloped me into the tightest hug ever the minute a Peacekeeper opened the room's door to tell us to say our last and final goodbyes.

I could still feel the strongness of his arms when he embraced me.

I bury my face deeper into his blankets.

Tears continue to stream down my face, along with sob snot brimming my nostrils when I wake up the next morning.

Mom comes into Zion's room with a cardboard box as the early morning sunlight starts to slant in through the curtain's cracks. When she sees me, she drops the packing box to the floor and swallows a snivel, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

The purple bags beneath her eyes have darkened and her hair is mussed as well as tangled.

"Ethelyn…"

The crack in her speech is unmistakably the hint that she's about to cry, and I rise from Zion's bed so that I could pull her into a hug.

Mom doesn't return the embrace. Her fingers still shield her mouth and her opposite arm stays still to her side.

We stand like this until the light spilling from the window turns bright and sunny.

After I untangle myself from her, I say, picking up the forgotten box, "I'll help you pack."

Her face wrinkles when I say the word 'pack'. Mom's head quickly jiggles side to side. "No." Her fingers clutch the box still in my hands, and she weakly tugs at it.

"_I'll_ pack then." I pull the box from her and set it onto the bed. "Get some sleep."

She doesn't protest, doesn't tell me to get ready for school, or eat breakfast. Her lips just quiver before she leaves the room.

Maysilee and Iliana don't knock on the door either to pick me up.

I start with Zion's wardrobe after I washed up and retied my hair into a scalp aching knot.

Sweaters, button ups, pants, I neatly and slowly fold them all and arrange them in the cramped box. I come across a dark green turtleneck that was Zion's favorite sweater to wear, the green that looked great on him, but not on me. I immediately pull it over my head. It's comfortable, despite the fact that I start to sweat.

I set aside his brown winter coat. For Arella. I actually set aside a ton of his clothes and quickly transfer them to my wardrobe.

When most of Zion's room is bare, I sink down to his rough and scratchy rug, pull my knees up to my chin, and hug my legs.

_He's gone_.

* * *

><p>A white flower sits in a vase filled with different colored pebbles on the coffee table when I join Mom and Dad in the living room that afternoon.<p>

"That's pretty," I say as I plop down onto the couch.

"Maysilee brought it over." Mom supplies, rubbing at her eyes. "Says that someone from school wanted you to have it."

I gaze at the three wide and delicate petals, the purple stubbly middle, the oddly shaped pebbles. "I love it."

"You can move it to your room if you want." Dad says quietly, after seeing that I'm wearing his son's sweater.

I nod and reach over to pluck the flowers from the vase. Sniffing it, I ask, "Do you know what it's called?"

"Maysilee said something about a katniss." Mom informs, watching me smell the flower. "Lovely, isn't it?"

"Yes," It has an earthy fragrance, not that sweet scent you come across on every plant from the floral shop. This one is natural, and homely, safe.

I notice some crumbles of moist and dark dirt in the crevices of the pebbles when I put the katniss flower back into its vase.

I know it's not from Troy.

* * *

><p><strong>nononononononononoonono<strong>

**I don't like this chapter**


	14. Adjusting

**Hey you guys! I'm supersuper sorry if you got an email that I uploaded this chapter yesterday ): The thing is, that I did. Idk what happened, it just disappeared? Anyway, I was able to figure that out, so here it is! && Everyone who has been reviewing, subscribing and favoriting (even a few of you have been putting me on your author alerts) thankyouthankyouthnkyou! This one especially goes to **Lorelei Eve**! Thankyouthankyouthankyou all! You don't know how happy I was to see that, I felt so loved!  
>I hope you all enjoy this chapter(:<strong>

* * *

><p>Dark and itchy scabs start to appear on my hairline over the next few days. I guess it's because of how tightly I've accustomed to tie my hair back. Either way, they're still itchy, and they hurt.<p>

I've missed a week of school. Sharon had to come over earlier this week to retrieve the egg I allowed to spoil to give to Aiden. And Troy stopped by to pick up our half colored picture book. I feel guilty about it really; we'll most likely get half credit for it—because it's incomplete and it's also late.

Maysilee's bird is doing alright. She brought it back home a few days ago. Turns out it was just a little bug that was in Mitzie's food bowl that caused her wheezing.

The girl from District Thee—the really weird one—won the Games. Her name is something like Wiley or Wirnas. I don't care to remember. I'll find out anyway when she comes visit during the Victory Tour in a few months.

It's weird though, how everything still continues to progress here without Zion. How the peach tree in the backyard is beginning to bloom with fruits, and the bright pink flowers starts blossoming among the branches. How neighbors stop by to give us their condolences. Just everything. I wonder how the Muck family is adjusting, Kimble and Casper do not visit the apothecary anymore. I don't even recall of how Shay died.

Arella comes over every other day after school now. She helps Mom around the house, makes dinner when my mother isn't up to it, brightens up the place with her sunny spirit. I almost feel like she's replacing me. _I_ should be the one helping Mom, _I_ should be maintaining the household, _I_ should be motivating my parents to stay strong.

I don't realize how selfish I'm acting.

But it's the hardest on Dad. I can tell. His short hair is streaking with gray, and the only thing he does nowadays is count inventory and read. He's even brought out Grandfather's pipe a few times. I haven't seen him cry though. Not yet at least.

Arella is serving dinner when Mom says, "Ethelyn, I want you to go over to the Prescott's clothing shop tomorrow."

I also begin to back talk these days.

"Whatever for, Mom?" I question.

Arella sneaks a glance at me, her eyes warning for me to shut up, but I just cross my arms and make a face. Mother should already know by now the reason why I prefer to wear her old dresses than go to the Prescott's; I feel so shamefaced when I pay their shop a visit.

"I would like you to take a look at the dresses, get an idea of the one you'd like to wear to Zion's…" As she trails off, Mom's face sours and her lips pucker. Dad breathes heavily. The ladle Arella is serving the vegetables with swoop and the peas spill onto the table cloth.

"Sorry!" She squeals, rushing back to the kitchen, maybe to get a rag to clean up the mess.

Dad stares at me pointedly to go help her. This time, I do. Because I want to get out of this conversation, and I do not wish to get an idea of a dress I'd like to help Mom make from the _Prescott's_.

A cold expression masks Arella's face when I join her.

"What do you think you're doing?" She hisses quietly, grabbing a dish towel from the cupboard.

I only stand there, both of my hands pressed against each other.

"Ethelyn!" She stands up straight and looks at me. Looks at me like an older sister frustrated with her younger sister's face, like she's trying to apply makeup on me for a school dance but I keep fidgeting. "I know—I know you aren't feeling well… I know Zion's loss is a really hard thing to get over." Her voice becomes high and shrill after she says his name. "But you need to also realize that you're parents are hurting inside too, even more than you are. Did you know that your mom told me that your father is trying to remain stoic, to keep you calm, to make you believe that he's still that regal strong man you always knew? You have to cut them some slack and _obey_. Just listen to them Ethelyn, _please_."

I feel something stinging and unpromising start to prick at my eyes. I know its tears, as they're also starting to fill Arella's eyes.

"Excuse me," I push past her and rush out the back door. I sit down on the cement steps beside the garbage cans, pressing my palms to my eyes.

Why am I crying? Why am I crying?

After a few minutes of my relentless sob session, I rub my shawl against my face, aware of the fact that I'll get scolded for dirtying my clothes with my nose junk.

I won't care what I'll look like. I think. I'll go upstairs, wash my face in the kitchen, then apologize to my parents. After that, I'll listen to what Mom has to say and thank Arella for cooking dinner for us.

I stand up. And the second I see him, I _do_ care what I look like.

He's walking down the alley, face down and whistling and kicking at a rock.

He hasn't seen me yet! I've just started to pat at my terrible hair and pinch at my cheeks for color when his head snap up.

His smile causes my stomach to flutter and my face naturally heats up. I feel happy, just seeing him, despite the fact of what's going on right now.

"I didn't expect to see you here." I stammer, a deeper blush creeping onto my cheeks.

Aiden stuffs his hands into his jean's pockets. "Same goes for me." The bottom of his shoe balances on the rock he was kicking at. "It's really nice to see you Ethelyn."

I swallow. "Yeah." I'm also glad to see him, but how am I supposed to tell him that…? "You too, Aiden." I mutter his name, because suddenly, I'm not comfortable saying it out loud.

His smile wears down, and his gray eyes squint up to the kitchen window. "Sounds like someone's looking for you."

I quickly follow his gaze. It's Arella.

"Oh, well." I turn toward the door, my gaze lingering on Aiden. "I guess I should get going. Bye."

One of his hands leaves his pockets. He lifts it up, touches his forehead with it and sort of points at me. "See ya around."

It's easy to cover my confused frown with a smile. "Thanks for the flower."

Something quick and unfamiliar flashes across his face. But then the corners of his lips lift into a curve again. "Anytime." His eyes tell me that he is being true to his word.

I step back into the kitchen before I can turn even redder than I already am,

Arella's breathing hitches when I come in. "Where were you!"

"I just went out to blow off some steam." The flush coloring my face immediately dies down. "Sorry."

She sighs. "Well I cleaned up the peas. Let's go eat dinner now, and remember, be a good girl." Her hand is smooth and cold when she places it over my shoulder and steers me back into the dining room.

Mom is patiently spooning in a bite of homemade cheese and green bean casserole and Dad is gently massaging at his temples when Arella and I walk back in. We take our seats quietly. Zion's spot has become Arella's place at the table.

"The casserole is delicious." Mom says after a while. She's telling the truth, her plate is clean of it.

Arella's head ducks, embarrassed and blushing. "Thank you Mrs. Chadwick."

Soon enough, we've all finished dinner and Arella's first try of making a yam pudding dessert. She leaves after cleaning the dishes. I head up the stairs immediately after Dad goes back down to do inventory.

Mother stops me.

"Ethelyn dear, come join me in the living room."

I give her a strange look, but then I remember what Arella told me earlier, and I follow her through the door.

"Yes Mom?" I ask after sitting beside her on the sofa.

Mom reaches over and grabs my hand, and then she just holds it in her lap. Her nostrils are flared and her eyes are beginning to turn glassy.

"Ethelyn."

It's as if her mouth is full of cotton, the way she is speaking. She deeply breathes in through her nose, and with her free hand, she wipes at a tear that slipped from her tear duct.

"I want to know… I wanted to know how you've been." The grip she has on my hand tightens.

I try to compose myself. Straightening my back, my mouth opens for me to speak. I could feel a tickle develop in the back of my throat though, the tickle that could only mean one thing.

"Mom," I look at her hard in the eyes. "Mom, I'm fine. Why?"

"No." She says, shaking her head. "Tell me how you are _really_ feeling."

I snuffle for a second. "Mommy… I don't know."

Mom nods like she understands, then smears at her face for a second time. "Okay then."

"What about you?"

She shrugs. "I'm not the best… y'know… it'll never be the same…" Her eyes leave mine. "Without my baby."

I swallow thickly, demanding the itch in my throat to go back down.

Don't you dare cry. Don't you dare cry.

I think about ten minutes have passed when Mom tells me to go take a bath, clean my teeth and to make sure I'm useful tomorrow, Saturday.

"And don't forget about a whim of what you'd like your dress to look like!" She calls out as I trudge up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Mrs. Prescott has just opened the front door of her shop when I approach her. When she turns around—one hand fastening a little apron around her waist, the opposite shoving glasses onto her nose—she nearly faints at the sight of me.<p>

"Oh dear! You almost gave me a heart attack; I didn't expect to see a customer here so early." Suzette's Mom's eyes blink for a few seconds before she manages to form a smile. She has those type of glasses that make her eyes appear super large.

"Ah, you're the girl whose brother has passed away." She frowns. "Ethelyn, am I correct?"

I nod. "Yes ma'am."

Mrs. Prescott scuttles away from the entry and says, "Well come in, come in. If you need anything just call me. I'll be out here, just fixing up some things."

After she shoos me into the shop, I half-heartedly begin to look at the variety of differently designed dresses.

I notice how Mrs. Prescott frequently glances at me from time to time through the display window. She is messing with her pageant flowers.

I resume my dress observing. I especially like the red one with ivory lace and the sunset orange spring dress with a pink collar.

Then the shop's back door swings open.

"Ma, I can't find the—"

I spin around, pursing my lips.

Suzette's eyes glaze me over, pausing at the scabs bordering my hairline. A smirk works its way onto her mouth. "Well, well, well, looky, who do we have here?" Suzette stops walking right in front of me, her glossy ponytail bouncing and her eyes glinting with unkind delight. "Thought I'd never see _you_ gain."

I bob my head, curtly.

Suzette's smug expression just deepens as she passes me to go speak with her mother outside.

I secretly watch them from my peripheral. They continuously sneak glimpses of me, whispering to each other.

Finally, Suzette walks back in and she makes her way over to the cash register. Her elbow slams onto the counter, and she presses the side of her face into her palm.

"Found anything you like?" She asks, bored.

"Not yet." I answer taking a glimpse of her mom, who seems sorts of angry when she stares back at me.

"Mmkay." Suzette picks at her nails, and then does the unthinkable—_talk_ to me, like we're still friends!

"So… I'm sorry about what happened."

I furrow my eyebrows at her, completely confused. "Thanks…"

She just snorts nonchalantly.

I suddenly feel vexed, but I just cover it with a huff.

"Yeah, anyway, that's no excuse for you to be missing school." Ah, there is the Suzette we all know and love.

I scrunch my face, irritated. I ask tiredly, "Suzette, what exactly are you trying to get at?"

"You no longer have a partner for Gym class."

_What?_

The surprise in my voice is so not easy to hide. "Oh? Why?"

Suzette's eyebrows arch. "Hm, why do you care so much Ethelyn? Isn't he from the _Seam_? And don't you have ears? I just said that you shouldn't be missing school, so that's probably why!" She shakes her head to herself, then looks back at me, her nails left ignored. "Found anything _now_?"

Snappishly, I have the urge to yell at her, but instead, I just grit my teeth and say, "I'll be back."

I have just started to head out when Suzette shouts out, "Oh wait! I almost forget to tell you, my family and I are going over to the Mellark's tonight, for dinner."

I stop dead in my tracks. I mean, I still like him, right? I turn, and purse my lips into a straighter line than they already are in. "Have fun. Tell Troy I said hi."

By the way how I see Suzette's eyes narrow, I feel like I need to say a little more, _just_ to tick her off. "Tell him that I'll come over later on this week, I still want to learn how to prepare a perfect cake."

Yep, that does it. She is mad.

I quickly hurry out the door, nod at her mother, smiling to no one really but me when I reach the house.

Mom is laying out her sewing supplies on to the kitchen table when I come into the dining room. She looks at me expectantly. "Well, I'm hoping you saw something you liked?"

"Yes."

"Alrighty then!" She clasps her hands together. "Let me just go fetch my ruler and notepad and we'll be on our way."

Suzette isn't happy to see me again, at all. But she helps Mom and me with our measurements of the red dress and picking out black cotton cloths and white lace to work with regardless. Her mother makes another strange face at me when Mom and I go back home.

"That orange spring dress you had me look at was very sweet." Mom remarks after we've started to begin working on my dress. "Though, it isn't for an occasion like this. "Her smile is sheepish and bittersweet. I notice how bloodshot her eyes are, and the bags beneath them are getting even worse. "Maybe next time, okay?"

We're making a black version of the red dress I saw earlier. It's so tiresome, and Mom at last announces that we're finished for the day when Dad comes up from work.

It's near sunset.

"How are my two favorite girls?" Dad asks, bending down to give Mom a kiss. He hesitates when he approaches me, but then he lightly pecks me on the forehead, near my scabs. I swear I hear him quietly mumble, "Honey, you need some salve for that."

"We're okay. How about you, darling?"

Dad stretches his arms out, yawning. "Tired, very tired. And I'm starving also."

Mom sits up, shocked. "Oh no. guess I've become so used to Arella stopping by this week, that I've forgotten supper."

"It's alright." I say quickly. "I'll make dinner." I rise from my chair.

"Oh Ethie, are you sure?" Mom looks worried, but my father shushes her.

"Mom's taught you some stuff, I'm sure of that. We'll be in our room if you need anything." Dad says. Then he takes her hand and leads her up the stairs.

I sigh and go into the kitchen. After I've opened the pantry, I stare at what little it holds. What should I make?

There's smashed potatoes. Then there's that chicken breast dish Mom showed me how to make a few months ago. I settle on steamed broccoli with a little salt and butter, some leftover drop biscuits from last night and baked chicken cooked with some honey. Simple and fast.

I am a little proud of myself when I set the table.

Dad actually seems pleased when he dips into his plate, but Mom on the other hand, she eats with a plain expression.

While we're cleaning the dishes, Mom says, "Tomorrow, you're cooking with me. I have a few tricks that I need to show you."

Then she tells me about a time she made a meal for her parents' guests when she was younger before she tucks me in.

Her story sends me right to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm hoping that everyone enjoyed July 4th yesterday (if you're in America, that is, teehee)!<br>&& Next chapter you'll find out how poor Zion died):  
><strong>**Until next time!**

**-UnintendedPaperCut xoxoxoxoxx**


	15. Confused

I am restless when I wake up the next morning. But I don't know if this would count as morning. Because the sun is still down and the moon is still up and when I peek past my curtains, the sky is so dark that I can count stars. But counting stars in District Twelve is so easy; there's rarely ever electricity running at night so there isn't any artificial light to interfere with them.

I climb back into my bed, try to close my eyes and find the sleep in my head. It's hard and it wakes me up even more so I just get up and walk over to Zion's room.

The bottoms of my feet are cold when I enter his room. The rug that once covered the floor has been swept and put into the storage room down in the shop. His mattress is bare, except for a thin cotton sheet and a naked pillow on top of it. Something else lies on top of his dresser and I close the door behind me before I go look at it.

It's a photograph book. We have a lot of these. Five, to be exact. Three of them are from my parents' families and the ones before them. The one that lies open on the dresser looks fairly new so I'm guessing it's our very own. It's open on a page near the end of the book.

I pick up the book and flop onto Zion's bed, and I become even colder. As I settle down, lying down on my belly and curling my legs together so that I can become warm, I bring the book closer to my face. There are three photos on this page, one of him and Arella, another of him with his award he got for writing the most memorable poem in his class, which we used to have hanging in the family room, and the last one is of him laughing with Dad.

I only stare at the photos. Hard, expressionless. I squint at the lines Dad had on his face in the last picture, the way the skin around Zion's eyes is crinkled and how they both sort of hold each other, mouths wide open, lines around there, too. I also stare at the one of him and Arella. He is smiling at her, but it is a closed lip smile, like he is trying to suppress his happiness. He has his arms around her as well, and she is laughing at something, her eyes looking past the camera. This was taken at the school dance last year. There was a man with a big camera that the principal paid to come there that night. It was free to take a photo too. But you could only take one, to save film, the man had said. I think I wasted mine with Maysilee and Iliana that evening. And it wasn't even a nice one. Maysilee was in the middle of blinking and Iliana was twirling at her hair and I made a funny face that my mother frowned at when I showed it to her. But as I look at this picture, the one of Zion and Arella, I see that this one is a very nice photo. The photo of Zion with his award, his smile is distant, and his shoulders are way too hitched. I close the book and shove it under the bare pillow I lie beside.

I notice that Zion's scent is slowly starting to fade when I bury my head into the hard mattress. It smells like soap and cold water and fresh air. I sit up, stuffing a shirt of Zion's I slipped into before Mom tucked me in into my face. His scent sort of lingers, more than the bed, but it's weakening. I desperately breathe in deeper.

I sit there, on Zion's cold mattress, for the next few hours. My legs are bent, tucked underneath the big shirt I try to breath in the scent of. I watch the sunrise from there too. I've never really woken up early enough to watch the sunrise, so when I see this from Zion's window, it's absolutely breathtaking. The sky turns pink and orange and white and wispy and yellow and it fades into a sheer blue. And for some reason, I can imagine Aiden watching it right before he starts his day off with hunting. If it looks this beautiful from Zion's bedroom window, just how marvelous would it be from up in a tree, with the sound of birds chirping around you, the morning breeze kissing your cheeks? I suddenly want to know, and I sigh longily at the thought. At the thought of tip toeing out early in the morning and sneaking out into the woods, watching the sunrise, and doing all of this with _Aiden_.

I guess there's a confused frown on my face when the door opens because Mom says, "Ethylen? What are you doing up so early? And why is your face like that? You will get wrinkles! And why do I keep waking up to you in Zion's room?"

I don't answer, I just continue to frown. Because why do I even care if Aiden watches the sunrise on a Saturday morning—or _any_ morning? And why would I even _want_ to watch the sunset, let alone with _Aiden_? What is wrong with me? Why am I having such strange feelings toward Aiden? This is so weird, and I feel so rotten.

It is as if Mother could read my mind because she is clucking at me now.

"C'mon Ethy, get up, get up. I need to get started on breakfast and I need you to help me and we also need to finish up your dress. C'mon Ethy, c'mon get up out of bed!"

She scurries over to me and helps me sit up, making a noise with her tongue as she takes a seat on Zion's bed beside me. "You look awful."

I offer her a very small smile when she says this, and she takes my hands in hers and rubs circles on them with her fingers. "I feel awful." I agree.

Mom sighs and looks around the room. "Don't we all?" She pats my hands and removes them, smoothing down her nightgown. "This room doesn't do us any good. It is poison. All we are doing is making ourselves more miserable. We are so pitiful. Zion wouldn't like this, he wouldn't like this at all."

I can feel myself frown because I do not think she is right. But when she looks over at me I yet again offer her another small smile…

Her eyes are watery.

"Well!" She stands up from the bed. "I'm going to go down to the kitchen and you are going to help me with breakfast. Your father is still sleeping so if you need to wash up please do it quietly." She pats at her eyes and leaves the bedroom within one second.

* * *

><p>It feels like the reaping day all over again.<p>

The black dress Mom and I have been working on is finished. It only took a week to finally complete. But I do not like it. I hate the reason why we made it and I hate how it fits.

Mother smiles from behind me and wraps me into a hug as we both stare into the mirror. "Stop complaining, it does fit! You always says nothing fits when it always fits. You look lovely and I am so happy that we worked on this together. It looks better than the dress we saw from the bitter Mrs. Prescott's shop down the street."

"Bitter?" I turn around as Mom brings her arms back to her sides, trying my best not to laugh. "The bitter Mrs. Prescott?"

"Oh shush," Mom rolls her eyes. "We both know it. And I saw the way her daughter was glaring at you while we were taking measurements. There is absolutely no reason for any person to look at my daughter that way and her mom is just the same. But they make fantastic dresses." She clasps her hands together and smiles. "I just don't understand though. The two of you used to be so close."

I turn back to the mirror and run my fingers over the pleats on the skirt of my dress. "It's because of Troy," I say coolly, not getting that familiar Troy feeling in my stomach as I say his name. "She is so utterly and completely infatuated by him and she knows that we are…" I pause, furrowing my eyebrows as I try to find the appropriate word to finish my sentence. "… talking to each other." I frown when I say this.

Mother raises her eyebrows. "Ah, Geneva's son. He is such a good boy. I really do like him."

I force a giggle, keeping my face nonchalant. "Yeah, he's okay I guess."

Mom is about to say something when we hear the front door open. She looks at me quizzically and leads me down the hall. She calls out, "Nathaniel? Are we closing the shop early today?"

When we step into the living room, we see my dad and the one and only Troy Mellark standing beside the television shelf. I unconsciously bring my arms up to cover my chest, even though I am still wearing the dress I made. Mom looks over at me and mouths, "Speaking of the devil." I turn my attention back to dad and the boy that I suddenly remember I was supposed to bake a cake with last Sunday. I lift my lips into the most painful and fakest smile ever.

"Troy is here to bring Ethylen to his house. Seems as if she bailed on a baking lesson she promised she would go to." Dad finally announces, all while Troy stares at me with wide eyes.

"Oh," I let out a sharp breath and deepen my permanent grin. I can feel my cheeks turn a warm and bright red. "I'm so sorry about that! I must have completely forgotten!" I shake my head and try to avoid eye contact with Troy as I apologize. "Silly me!"

Troy only shakes his head. "No, that's completely alright! You must've been busy."

My parents leave the room after telling Troy to keep me as long as his family would like. My mother pinches my bum on their way back down to the apothecary. I glance back at Troy, even redder than before.

"Ethylen, you look beautiful." Troy breathes out after a very long and very awkward silence. He takes a few steps toward me, and I try my best to keep my feet to stay put. The closer he gets to me, the tanner his skin is becoming. And his eyes are turning into a smoky gray. And his hair! It's dark and—and—

"Um, thank you Troy. You uh, you uh look—" I'm starting to sweat and I want to scream. He looks like Aiden!

Troy is very close to me now and he cuts me off before pulling me into a tight hug.

I am shocked and I don't hug back. I only find myself wishing that it really was Aiden hugging me and I don't know, I don't know why! I like Troy and I try to remember that as he continues to hold me in his arms. I squirm out of Troy's arms with a yelp. Why am I thinking about Aiden!? I want to slap myself when I see the expression Troy is wearing.

"I-I'm so sorry." Troy steps back and his face is pink. He is embarrassed and now I feel horrible.

I bite my lip and look down, trying to think of what to say. "No, don't be! I was just, er, surprised." I look back up at Troy but he still looks hurt, so I quickly get out, "I was nervous, that's all." Right?

Troy's face softens. "Oh." He clears his throat. "I understand." He laughs and it's hard to laugh with him. It's like my throat is stuffed with a tablecloth. "I just missed you so much… you missed a lot of school and I haven't seen you in ages." When he says this I hear it all in Aiden's voice. I desperately look around the room in panic, struggling to clear my head of my outrageous imagination.

My fake smile returns. "Yeah…" I rock on my heels. "I'll be returning this week. I will probably have to repeat this grade again." My chuckle is harsh because that might just come true.

Troy shakes his head. "I doubt that; you are so smart that you shouldn't even be in this grade but in the next one." He smiles that smile that my stomach would usually start to bubble because of, but it doesn't. This isn't right.

"Ha, as if." My voices is shaky. "Anyway, I'll go get changed and then we can finally bake this cake!" I'm out of the living room in such a flash that I'm out of breath when I shut my bedroom door behind me.

What the heck just happened?!

And why the hell am I still thinking about Aiden?!

* * *

><p><strong> Hey guys! I don't even know what to say. For those of you who are still here reading this, thank you so much! I don't even have an excuse for my absence but I'm pretty sure you can all trust me when I say that I will continue writing with decent update dates! I love you all so much! You are all so awesome 3<strong>


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